Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman
by Futurist
Summary: NOT a crossover. Harry's magic, to minimize his injuries at the hands of his relatives, boosts him by mimicking the powers of Spiderman. I hate wounded duck heroes, Harry learns about Wizards with confidence, a keen intellect, and knowledge of history. Wizards are stuck with Victorian traditions harems, slavery, dueling the method of conflict resolution.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman Chapter 1

**Origins**

"My name is Harry Potter," whispered the small, terribly thin boy in wonder.

Today was the best day of his life! Today, he had learned his name wasn't 'Boy' or 'Freak'! He also learned that he would be starting primary school, tomorrow.

He rolled onto his back. He looked up at the bottom of the staircase from his thin, tatty mattress, and tried to contain his excitement. Finally, he would have something to do besides cooking, cleaning, and tending the yard.

It was a struggle, but after wrapping himself in his thin blanket, he finally he drifted off to sleep. He dreamed happy dreams.

The next morning, as the first light of dawn brightened his cupboard under the stairs, Harry got up to start breakfast for his relatives. First, he started the kettle of tea, and then he got out three pans. He fried up three pounds of potatoes, a pound of bacon, and scrambled a dozen eggs. Meanwhile, he toasted and drowned a dozen pieces of bread with butter, and set the table. He put out six different kinds of jelly, and a gallon of milk.

Harry had finished setting the table as Aunt Petunia came down the stairs dressed in a bathrobe. She saw that breakfast wasn't yet ready, and snarled at Harry to hurry up and finish, before Vernon came down to eat. Then she went out the front door to retrieve the morning paper.

Just before breakfast was ready, Harry's Uncle Vernon heaved his vast bulk down the steps and trudged into the dining room to collapse into his seat at the table. Petunia placed his newspaper next to his plate, and Vernon grunted.

Then, he scowled towards the kitchen, and demanded, "Boy! Where is breakfast? Do I need to get out the belt?"

Harry was balanced precariously on a chair, while lifting a heavy pan with both hands. He dumped the fried potatoes into a serving dish and set the fry pan back down with hands trembling from the exertion.

"No, Uncle Vernon! I'm bringing your breakfast right out!"

Harry carried out the plates of bacon and scrambled eggs, and set them on the table. He went back into the kitchen, grabbed the larger plate of fried potatoes, and set it within his uncle's reach. As he turned to go back into the kitchen to begin the clean up, Vernon grabbed him by the upper arm, yanking Harry back to face him.

"What did I tell you about being late with breakfast, Boy?" he yelled, sending bits of bacon and spittle all over Harry's face.

Vernon lifted Harry painfully higher and shook him with every word for emphasis.

"Now listen here, you little freak! You finish cleaning up the kitchen and you can just walk to school, while we drive little Dudley after he's finished his breakfast. No freakishness out of you! You hear me?"

Uncle Vernon tossed Harry towards the kitchen, where he crumpled in a heap. He rubbed his painful left arm as he gathered himself up. Fighting back his tears, not wanting to give his uncle, or cousin, the satisfaction of seeing him cry, Harry wondered if they'd leave anything for him to eat. As he picked up the pans and put them in the sink, he surreptitiously snatched small bits of food left behind in the pans. It was often the only food he managed, despite him cooking most of the meals.

Dudley stomped down the stairs, and walked heavily over to sit next to his father. With a malicious grin at his cousin, Dudley shoveled the remaining food onto his plate, until it was overflowing. He then proceeded to inhale it, seemingly without stopping to chew.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had started for the front door when Harry heard Dudley whining about something.

Uncle Vernon bellowed, "Freak! Come here!"

Harry quickly placed the clean fry pan back in the cabinet where it belong, and rush to the front door, still holding the dish towel. Keeping his eyes down, he asked, "Yes, Uncle?"

"Dudders is finished with some of his comic books. Before you leave, go up to his second bedroom, and clean up that mess."

Harry saw Dudley's satisfied smirk before his relatives headed out, and got into the car. He closed the door, and took the dishtowel back into the kitchen. He made a final sweep with a dishcloth, to insure the kitchen was spotless.

He hung up the towel and ran up the stairs, two at a time. He ran up the stairs, knowing if the mess were as bad as usual, he'd have to run all the way to school, too.

As Harry opened the door to Dudley's second bedroom, he saw the room's floor was covered with ripped up pages of comics, and pieces where his cousin had ripped the comics almost to confetti. Huffing in exasperation, Harry started by just pushing all the destroyed comics into a pile.

As he was about to bin the whole lot, Harry noticed one comic that had merely been ripped in half. Dudley must have run out of steam for whatever had set off this fit of destruction, by the time he'd gotten to this one.

Harry lovingly placed the two halves of the ripped comic into his backpack. He threw it over one shoulder, and ran out of the house.

Harry ran all the way to school. It was nearly two kilometers, so by the time he had gotten to the edge of the school grounds, he was sweating heavily. This was despite the relative coolness of the morning. Seeing that there were still children milling about the playground, and being dropped off by the school lorries; he slowed to a walk, and tried to catch his breath.

Harry was overwhelmed by the teeming activity of the children, and their laughter, as they played games or romped on the playground equipment. He stepped into the shadow of the building near the door, and tried to make sense out of the mass of colorful, fuzzy blobs moving about the playground.

Harry was startled when the school's bell rang. He saw everyone making their way inside, and slipped through the doors near the head of the crowd. He stood inside, uncertainly, unsure of where to go. One of the older students shoved him out of the way, unexpectedly. Harry bounced off a row of lockers on the wall, and fell to his knees.

A small hand grasped him under the arm, and helped Harry to his feet. Shyly, Harry turned to see who had helped him. He saw a small girl with dark brown hair. She was just starting to smile at Harry, when Dudley pushed Harry. Again, he bounced with a bang off the lockers, and fell into a heap on the floor.

Dudley sneered menacingly at the girl, and said loudly, "You'd best stay away from that freak!"

The girl scowled at Dudley's back, and reached down to help Harry up once more. She asked, "That was mean! Are you just starting first year, too?" At Harry's nod, she turned and said over her shoulder, "Follow me, we have Miss Middleton."

Harry enjoyed his first day of school. He especially enjoyed reading aloud to the class from their primer, but he couldn't make out anything the teacher wrote on the blackboard. Finally, he timidly raised his hand. Miss Middleton didn't see his hand for several minutes, and Harry got more and more embarrassed until finally she called on him.

"Yes, Harry isn't it? What do you need?"

"I… it's just that I can't read what's on the board, Miss," Harry stammered.

Perplexed, Miss Middleton asked, "But, Harry, you read that passage from the book quite well. Why can't you read the board?"

Ready to crawl under his desk, Harry squeaked, "It's… it's all just a blur to me, Miss."

One of Miss Middleton's hands rose to cover her mouth in shock. She was still for a moment.

Then she lowered her hand and asked, "Harry, haven't you ever had your eyes examined?"

Harry slumped as he heard Dudley whisper loudly from the front row, "The freak needs glasses! Ha, ha, ha! Then he'll be a four-eyed freak!"

Miss Middleton's lips thinned. She pointed at Dudley and commanded, "You there! Dudley! Go stand in the corner… quietly!"

Then, in a softer voice, she asked Harry to come to the board and read what she had written there. When Harry had no problem, she asked him to move back to the front row. Harry struggled a bit, but was able to read what she'd written.

Coming to a decision, Miss Middleton gave her orders, "Harry, you'll be sitting here, in Dudley's old desk. Dudley, you come grab your stuff, and move back there to where Harry was sitting."

Dudley gaped at her in shock for a moment, until the teacher motioned him to do as she had ordered. Dudley leaned down to grab his bookbag from the shelf under the chair.

He muttered murderously, "You just wait until we get home, freak!"

Harry's eyes flicked nervously to his cousins angry face, and sank down in his new chair as he was sure what his Uncle's response would be. When recess came, Harry begged off, saying he wasn't feeling well. He stayed inside, huddled in misery.

Sure enough, when school ended, Dudley waddled out as quickly as his fat body would allow. He found his mother waiting in her car. As Harry followed slowly, and started to bypass the car and walk home, Dudley rolled down his window.

"Boy! Get over here, and get in the car!" hissed Aunt Petunia.

Head bowed, Harry complied. As soon as he was in the car, but even before he could close the door, Petunia pulled out quickly. The door slammed, narrowly missing Harry's hand, as his aunt started to berate him.

"What do you think you are doing? Acting like you are important! Making Dudley look bad! Having to stand in the corner on his first day! Then, there's this note for an optometrist! Why would you think you deserve glasses? You are nothing more than a useless freak! You just wait until Vernon gets home! He'll show you what's what!"

Harry shrank lower and lower in his seat as Aunt Petunia shrieked at him all the way home.

When the car pulled into the drive of #4 Privet Drive, Aunt Petunia and Dudley both quickly got out of the car and marched angrily to the door. Harry reluctantly and slowly followed. When he got close enough to see that Aunt Petunia's face was clenched in fury, he scampered passed her, and into the house.

As soon as he was by, Petunia slammed the door shut. She grabbed Harry's hair and dragged him bodily over to the cupboard under the stairs. She pulled open the door and threw Harry inside. As soon as he was in, Aunt Petunia slammed the tiny door. Harry could hear it being locked.

Harry let out a weary sigh in the darkness, before reaching up with practiced ease to find the light and turn it on. The bare bulb flared in the darkness, and Harry blinked to let his eyes adjust. He shivered in dreaded anticipation of Uncle Vernon's arrival. He needed something, anything to take his mind off from his probable punishment. There was nothing in his cupboard except for a thin mattress, a worn and thin blanket, plus what he'd brought with him.

Harry remembered that in her haste, Aunt Petunia had thrown him into his cupboard, _with_ his bookbag. With a grin, he opened the bag, and pulled out his schoolbooks. He stacked them at the end of the mattress.

Then, he spotted the frayed edges of the torn comic book. He pulled out the two halves of that, as well. Carefully he fitted the upper and lower halves together and stared at the cover of the comic.

Dudley never let Harry have anything, even when Dudley didn't want it anymore. He destroyed it, first. There had even been gifts Dudley hadn't liked, but Dudley had destroyed them immediately after he received them, just to prevent Harry from getting anything of his own. It was a sad sort of tradition, for Dudley.

That's why Harry just stared at the cover of the comic. He took in every detail. He was in awe of the color, the action implied by the poses of the characters, even before he read the issue, entitled: 'Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spiderman' #68.

He looked down to the title and saw it was a reprint of 'The Amazing Spiderman' #1, the origin of Spiderman. He flipped the two halves of the cover over (it had been ripped in half, horizontally) and began to read the first page.

Just then, he heard the front door open. Uncle Vernon stomped into the house. Harry's panic spiked. He quickly closed the comic and carefully hid it under the end of his mattress. He cowered back into the furthest corner of his cupboard and waited as the voices of his relatives rose in a crescendo from the living room.

When he heard heavy steps coming to the door of his cupboard, Harry pulled his legs up tight to his body and wrapped his arms around them, with his chin nestled between his knees. He heard the locks being unlocked, and then the small door to the cupboard was flung open.

Uncle Vernon growled, "Get out here, now, you worthless freak!"

Harry whimpered, but didn't move.

"Don't make me come in there to get you! Get out here now, boy," shouted Uncle Vernon.

Harry didn't know whether to laugh at the thought of Uncle Vernon trying to cram his bulk through the tiny door, or cry at what he could expect the moment he got outside.

Fear and anticipation of pain won. Harry's eyes filled with tears. He choked back a sob, but forced himself to move. He crawled toward the doorway. As soon as his hand clasped the edge of the doorframe, he was yanked painfully out into the hallway.

Harry never remembered the details of the next few minutes. He did remember that it had started with yelling, punctuated by slaps. It had moved on to screaming, with punches and kicks.

Eventually, Harry regained consciousness in the dark of his cupboard. Spikes of pain from his face, back, stomach, left arm, and right leg all suggested any movement wouldn't be wise. Harry tried to open his eyes, but his right eye didn't respond. It was swollen shut. With a groan at the agony, tears ran down his face, until he finally fell into an exhausted unconsciousness.

While he slept, a pale blue aura surrounded his wounds. The cracked bones in Harry's wrist knit back together, the torn cartilage in his right knee reformed. His torn kidney and the rupture in his abdominal wall healed. The inflamed and torn tissues from all of his bruises and contusions healed at an accelerated rate that crammed several days' worth of healing into hours. The aura stayed and glowed on his eyes; long after everywhere else had been completed.

When he finally awoke, Harry didn't even know what day it was. He felt terribly weak, but the agony he vaguely remembered, had been reduced to dull aches that served as a reminder of his treatment at the hands of his relatives. There wasn't a sound in the house. Harry felt a terrible thirst, and a hollow empty feeling in his tummy. There was nothing he could do to slake either. With no one about to let him out, and no source of food or water, all he could do was endure this further torment.

To take his mind off of his worst fears (that his relatives might be gone for days), Harry sat up carefully, and turned on his light. He looked at his stack of schoolbooks.

Then, remembering the comic he had stashed under the mattress, Harry's hands began shaking in excitement. Harry carefully and reverently pulled the torn comic from its hiding place.

Time had no meaning as Harry read about the shy, outcast loner: Peter Parker. He was intrigued by the visit to the University Laboratory, and he shivered in revulsion at the spiders. He felt an urgent twinge of sympathetic horror when one of the spiders escaped and bit Peter.

As Peter began to explore his newfound powers, Harry shared in his sense of discovery and wonder. Harry had to sit back for a moment, just to take in all of the revelations that the story had thrust upon him so far. He felt a lot like Peter Parker. He was lonely and isolated, because his relatives didn't allow him any contact with anyone. He had never had a friend. He just wished he had something special about him, something like Peter Parker had found.

Shaking his head in negation, he knew there was nothing special about himself. Harry bent to finish the story. He felt a vague unease at Peter Parker's attempt to cash in on his powers. He felt a sense of anguish at his growing estrangement with his Aunt and Uncle.

Harry thought if Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were as nice as Peter's Aunt May and Uncle Ben, he would do anything to keep them happy. He felt a great sadness come over him, wishing his aunt and uncle could be nice to him, too. He swallowed, convulsively. Trying to break through his melancholy before he started crying, he bent to finish reading the comic.

When Peter tricked his Uncle Ben into giving him a ride to the wrestling match, and lied about where he was going and what he would be doing, Harry's unease turned to trepidation. Uncle Ben's heartfelt appeal was oft quoted in the comic: 'with great power, comes great responsibility.'

Harry was stunned into immobility, with his mind racing.

Quietly, Harry murmured, "Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia have great power over me, but they abuse that power, and accept none of the responsibility. They don't feed me properly, they beat me, and they act as if I were some sort of filth."

Again, nearly overcome by his emotions, Harry read on. The wrestling match was funny and interesting, as Peter learned how to fight with his powers. Harry felt a surge of anger at the Promoter, when he reneged on the deal. He only gave Peter one hundred dollars, instead of the two thousand that had been promised. So, when Peter let the robber get by, he cheered silently. His sense of satisfaction was short-lived. When Peter found his Uncle Ben shot, Harry's horror over the scene was at least in part, because he had agreed with Peter's decision to let the robber pass without even trying to stop him.

That the man had immediately gone outside and shot and killed Peter's wonderful Uncle Ben, just to get a car for his getaway, was shattering. Harry shared Peter's sorrow and rage as he chased down the robber, and felt a grim satisfaction as the man got his just deserts, and fell to his death when he tried to kill Spiderman.

He was swept up in Peter's guilt and anguish, and when he resolutely declared that from that day forward he would use his great power to protect the innocent, Harry was overwhelmed and shared Peter's righteous resolution.

Harry sat back and thought harder than he had ever thought before. He was weak and couldn't even protect himself from his terrible relatives. As his stomach groaned in desperation, and Harry noticed his burning thirst once more, he even felt a growing fear that his relatives might just neglect to let him out before he died. Being so small and weak, there was nothing he could do. He kicked desperately at the door, and screamed for someone to let him out. But nobody heard, and the door didn't even rattle.

Harry crawled back into the corner, pulled his legs up, and tucked his chin between his knees. He tried to fight it, but with the overwhelming fear and uncertainty, he was soon crying in desperation.

With his eyes tightly shut and tears running down his face, his fear and uncertainty fought with rage and a sense of betrayal. How could his relatives treat him so horribly? What had he ever done to deserve such treatment?

He wished he had been bitten by a radioactive spider like Peter Parker and gained the powers of Spiderman. Then, he wouldn't have to worry about his relatives, and he too could protect the weak and innocent. He shook with emotion. With his eyes closed, he didn't see the increasing blue glow that covered his entire body.

Suddenly, unable to deal with his wracking emotions, he kicked out at the door in frustration. To Harry's surprise, when his foot struck the door, there was a tremendous splintering crash! The door flew off its hinges and across the hallway to lodge in two major pieces into the wall beyond.

Harry stared in shock. He didn't understand what had happened or why it had happened. Taking in the destruction, he cringed at the thought of what his relatives would do when they found out. However it had happened, they would, no doubt, blame him.

Then, a thought struck him. He was free!

Harry dashed to the bathroom and drank four quick cupfuls of water. The sound of the running water reminded him of other urgent business, and he relieved himself before washing his hands and heading for the kitchen.

He was starving. He figured he was already in as much trouble as he could get, with his relatives. So, he set out to make himself a big breakfast, one that would do even Dudley proud.

Oddly, all of the pans and utensils seemed almost weightless to him. Where normally it took both of his hands to have the strength to pick up the cast iron skillet, now he seemed able to lift it effortlessly with one hand.

Although that was interesting, it wasn't nearly interesting enough to break his fixation with food. Hurriedly, he turned on the burner, threw six rashers of bacon in the pan. He was planning to pull his chair over to the counter below the cabinet with the dishes, when instead, without thinking, he jumped from a standstill halfway across the kitchen to land lightly on top of the counter, below the cabinet he needed.

Harry stopped in surprise for a second, then shrugged and opened the cabinet. He grabbed a bowl to mix his eggs and the other fixings for an omelet, and a plate to hold his breakfast. He would have time to think about what was happening when he finished making his food. He jumped off the counter, and landed lightly.

He pulled out an onion and a slab of leftover ham, plus a couple slices of Swiss cheese. He started dicing onion, ham and cheese, and watched himself with dissociated fascination, as his hands moved faster and faster, until his hands were nearly a blur as he finished dicing the ham.

Again, he simply shook his head, and resolved to add this to the other mysteries he would think about it later. He flipped the bacon, and put four pieces of bread into the big toaster.

As soon as the bacon was done, he poured out most of the grease, and turned down the heat of the burner. He dumped in the eggs, and added the onions, cheese and ham. He put a cover on the pan as he stuffed a whole piece of bacon into his mouth.

He grabbed the toast as it popped up. While he was buttering the toast, he munched on two more pieces of bacon. Harry lifted the frying pan's lid to check on his omelet. Seeing that it still needed a minute or two, he went to the fridge and grabbed his favorite raspberry preserves.

He sighed as he realized that he only knew that raspberry was his favorite, because he'd been able to sneak some during the chaos of one of Dudley's huge birthday parties.

He slathered a thick layer of raspberry preserves on his toast, and took a huge bite. Still chewing and savoring the rich raspberry flavor, Harry checked his omelet. It was done. He casually flipped it up and out of the pan and watched it land, perfectly centered, on his plate. He tilted his head quizzically, grabbed the plate and snagged a jug of apple juice on his way passed the fridge.

He sat down at the dining room table and dug in. He didn't remember ever eating this well, even though he cooked meals like this every day for his relatives. It took several minutes, but Harry devoured every bite, until he was looking at the last bite of toast and the last swig of juice.

He polished both off with a happy sigh and leaned back with a big smile. He felt a new sensation, repletion. He didn't remember every being so full in all his short, miserable life.

Finally, with all of his immediate and desperate needs taken care of, Harry started to think about what had been happening. He didn't know how it had happened, but he couldn't help but notice the similarities between himself, and what had happened to Peter Parker when he first became Spiderman.

He mentally ticked off the points of similarity.

First, there had been the door to the cupboard under the stairs. He hadn't even been able to make it move, before. Suddenly, he had not only made it move, but had destroyed it utterly and sent it rocketing to lodge deep into the plaster of the opposite wall.

Second, there had been that leap. Nobody but Spiderman could leap more than a body length from a standing start, but he had effortlessly not only leapt two body lengths, but also upwards nearly three feet to the countertop.

Finally, there was the speed he had used, without even thinking about it, when chopping his omelet's ingredients.

Ok, then. Just as Peter Parker had been forced to when he first got his powers, Harry Potter needed to do some experimentation, to find his own new limits. He gathered up his dishes, and put them in the sink, figuring that he'd get around to washing them after solving some of these new mysteries.

First, he'd find the limits of his strength. He walked over to one of the heavy dining room chairs and pulled it out. It probably weighed nearly thirty pounds, almost two thirds of his own body weight. Before, he would have struggled just to slide it across the floor. Now, with his two hands, he swiftly and effortlessly lifted it over his head. There was a slight bobble, but only because of the weight shift. He set the chair down just as easily.

Not having a good understanding of mechanics or leverage, Harry then grasped the edge of the table and tried to lift it. To his surprise, because the table weighed far more than he did, and had a much larger moment arm; instead of lifting the table, he swung himself upward into a handstand on the edge of the table.

With a wry grin, Harry tried to push off from the handstand to land on his feet next to the table. Instead, he flew straight upward, and hit the ceiling feet first. In startled panic at the thought that he was about to plummet face first to the floor below, he closed his eyes and wished he could walk on walls, as Spiderman did, too.

He wrapped his arms around his head in preparation for the expected impact with the floor, but nothing happened. He cautiously opened one eye, and peeked through his arms. He saw the table below him.

It took a moment to reorganize his thoughts to comprehend what he was seeing, since the perspective was so odd. Finally, Harry realized he was standing on the ceiling, hanging upside down. He giggled to himself. This was just like Spiderman! It was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him!

'How do I control this,' Harry wondered.

He consciously pulled one foot off the ceiling, yet still he hung by the other foot. He pushed off and placed the foot he'd 'raised' from the ceiling, a short stride from where the first foot still clung. Almost without thinking about it further, he walked across the ceiling to the wall. He reached out with his hands. He thought about clinging to the wall by his hands, and releasing his feet. As quickly as he'd thought it, he did it. He found himself suspended from the wall by both hands. Harry laughed out loud in a shear, simple expression of joy.

With a look of determination, Harry gathered his feet against the wall. He dove across the room, towards the wall above the doorway leading to the entryway near his cupboard. He shot across the room, but had misjudged. He had aimed straight at where he wanted to land. Instead, he dropped slightly during his leap, and shot through the doorway headfirst. His arms flailed outward, and captured the doorframe as he flew past. He yanked to a stop.

Or at least, his head and arms did. The momentum of his legs continued, and they swung under him. He pivoted around his arms until his feet hit the ceiling in the hallway. A bit shaken, Harry decided he needed to take things slower. Until he knew his limits instinctively, he could and would make mistakes. Mistakes might be at least painful, if not dangerous to him.

He decided to try to lift the table one more time. This time, however, Harry concentrated on keeping his footing anchored to the floor, just as he had on the ceiling. It took both hands, but he lifted the entire table from one end. Although it took significant effort, he felt that even with the entire hundred plus pound weight extending straight out from his arms, he could lift even more.

He grinned at his success. Then he frowned, trying to think of something that would be heavier and more of a challenge. Harry walked into the living room, and went to one end of the large, formal couch… the one with the hideous floral pattern. He grabbed the armrest at the top and bottom and lifted the couch straight up.

Harry was so busy and involved in testing his limits, that he didn't hear his Uncle's car pull into the driveway. In fact, he had no idea that anyone was near. The door flew open, with him still holding the couch above his head. Harry spun on his heels in surprise, forgetting that he was still holding the couch. He smashed the living room light fixture with the opposite end of the couch.

Uncle Vernon stopped short and gaped at Harry in incomprehension. Then, seeing the destruction in the hallway and the living room beyond, Vernon's lips curled into a snarl. He started stomping towards his wayward nephew.

Harry panicked at the murderous look in his Uncle's eyes. Without thinking, Harry swung the couch defensively. He watched in shock as the mild impact sent his uncle rocketing across the room. He smashed bodily through an end table, and slammed into the wall hard enough to leave a Vernon sized imprint in the plaster.

Aunt Petunia, hot on Vernon's heels, and with the same murderous look of rage on her face was instantly brought up short.

Both hands shot to her cheeks as she screamed, "Vernon!"

Shooting a look at Harry that was a mixture of both fear and anger, Aunt Petunia rushed to her fat husband's side. She started to panic.

She shrieked, "Oh my God! You've killed him, you horrid little monster!"

Harry rushed to her side and looked at his uncle's slumped form. She tried to slap him, and Harry absently caught both of her wrists, holding them immobile. He ignored her struggles as he gave his uncle a visual inspection.

Harry released the breath he hadn't even realized that he was holding, as he saw Uncle Vernon's chest rise and fall.

He looked back at his aunt and said, "He'll be fine. Look, he's breathing, and he's barely got a bloody nose. Unlike how he left me last time. I didn't mean to hurt him, but he scared me and I just reacted. But I'll not be letting him or you beat me! **Not ever again!**"

Aunt Petunia sputtered as Harry released her. She looked back to Uncle Vernon, and cradled his head in her hands as she gently tried to wake him. Harry looked over towards the hallway and saw Dudley looking at him, apparently terrified, but unsure what to do about it.

With a grin, Harry suddenly leapt straight upwards. He 'caught' the ceiling with one flat hand, and hung there, all the while grinning madly at his cousin. Dudley shrieked and fled up the stairs. Harry listened to the sound of the door to Dudley's room slamming, with satisfaction.

Uncle Vernon sputtered and groaned. With his wife helping him, he laboriously climbed to his feet. He shook his head, as if to clear it. His eyes finally came to focus on his much-despised nephew. Not even realizing that the boy was hanging from the ceiling, but just that he was at a convenient height to attack, Vernon stumbled into a short charge.

Harry saw him coming, seemingly almost in slow motion. He had plenty of time to decide what to do. That being the case, he decided he didn't need to meet his Uncle's charge head on. Instead, he simply flipped up, and 'laid down' on the ceiling.

Vernon's attack had no finesse and no art, but it had plenty of momentum. When his target seemingly disappeared from right in front of him, he had no chance to stop before he slammed into the corner of the dining room table with his groin. As his groin painfully arrested his forward rush, his upper body and legs continued forward.

His upper body slammed down onto the top of the table, instantly shattering the joins between the table's top and legs. Since Vernon's legs had also continued forward, when he and the remains of the table started to fall, there was nothing to catch him. His fat, well-cushioned buttocks struck the floor with a splat.

Harry had to clap both hands over his mouth, to smother his laughter. He noticed that although his hands were no longer in contact with the ceiling, he did not fall from his 'reclining' position.

Aunt Petunia squeaked, "Vernon!"

She rushed to her husband's side one more time. Then, she stopped and looked down at the wreckage of her dining room table and at Vernon rolling around, and groaning in pain, while holding his groin. She looked up at her nephew, still hanging from the ceiling, and smothered a laugh herself. Calmly, she sat in one of the forlorn looking dining room chairs, next to the now destroyed table, and looked up at Harry.

Taking a deep breath, Aunt Petunia visibly tried to control herself before asking, "What is going on?"

With a huge grin, Harry decided to show off a bit. He flipped himself off the ceiling in a tight ball, and managed three and a half complete rotations before landing on the floor, in perfect balance.

With a flourish and an exaggerated bow, Harry said, "Well, I'm not quite sure. But, as you can see, there have been some changes."

Aunt Petunia blinked in shock, unsure which had surprised her more: the impossible acrobatic maneuver, or the confidence Harry had to have gained, to speak to her so. Fighting not to cringe at the pocket-sized dynamo that her nephew had become, she asked, "What happens now?"

Harry waved at his uncle, and said, "Look, Aunt Petunia, I don't want to hurt anyone. I just won't let him hurt anybody else. I just want to be left alone. I want a chance to live like a human being, not an unwanted cat.

"I'll tell you what, you give me Dudley's second bedroom, I'll cook all of my own meals, and we'll all just ignore each other. Ok?"

Petunia flinched at Harry's unyielding tone. She nodded in agreement.

Then she argued, "Vernon's not going to like it."

Harry again waved in his uncle's direction, where Vernon was still rolling around on the floor, groaning in pain.

He said firmly, "What is he going to do about it? Even he should learn something from this. Talk to him. I don't want to hurt him any more."

Petunia watched as her nephew walked unconcernedly out the front door.

Edited By TeNderLoin 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman

**Chapter 2 **

Trial and Error

Harry stepped out into a warm autumn afternoon. The sun shown down on Privet Drive, the birds sang, and Harry at last had his freedom to come and go as he wished. All was right with the world. With a huge grin and a spring in his step, Harry set off towards the park where he figured there was enough space that he could practice his new abilities away from prying eyes.

Harry looked at the trees again. A few cool nights in the past few weeks had started some of the leaves changing color. That wasn't surprising. What was surprising was that Harry could see individual leaves on the trees, instead of large amorphous blobs of color. Looking down the length of the street, Harry realized that he could see sharply defined shapes with clear colors over a hundred yards away. He realized that he probably hadn't notice the difference in his vision inside, because of the shorter distances.

Whooping with joy, Harry broke into a run. Harry didn't know why all of these changes had happened, but he couldn't believe how wonderful he felt. He was strong. He was fast. He could see!

In seconds, Harry reached the edge of the park. He darted straight for the opening in the hedgerow that faced Privet Drive. As soon as he was through the opening, and into the darker gloom of the shade from the trees and out of sight from the street, Harry made a prodigious leap. This part of the park was evenly spaced, old growth trees. Although it was considered manicured, that merely meant there was no underbrush, and that the lowest branches on the trees were twenty feet off the ground. Harry's leap sent him flying straight upward, and he caught the lowest branch.

Under his breath, Harry exclaimed, "Wicked! I wonder what else I can do?"

Slowly at first, Harry started leaping from tree to tree, branch to branch. Soon, he was going faster and faster, higher and higher within the treetops. He kept it up for over an hour without getting out of breath. Finally though, his arms and legs began to protest a bit, and he promised himself that he would stop soon.

Harry latched on to the topmost branch of the tree that had been his latest target, swung in an arc towards the next tree while pulling his legs under him for another leap. As he started his leap, he felt the branch sway too much. The branch had been too thin to withstand the force of his leap! He didn't get nearly enough push to make it to the next tree! He was going to fall short!

To Harry, time seemed to slow down. He had plenty of time to contemplate his fate. He was in the very tops of the very large trees, at least sixty feet off the ground. His leap was taking him over the branches of the tree he had leapt from, but would only get him as far as the outermost branches of the one he had been targeting! This was not good! He didn't even know if he could survive a fall from so high up!

He saw one chance. If he could arrest his fall by grabbing some of the smaller branches, maybe he could swing to some of the larger branches closer to the tree trunk and catch himself in time. Time, Harry was still perceiving time oddly. His head first plummet still seemed to be in slow motion. So, as he saw the first tiny branch he could reach coming into range, he reached out with one hand and grasped it.

The tiny branch wasn't even a quarter of an inch in diameter. Only a few leaves extended beyond his hand, and in slow motion he saw the branch start to bend, and his body's momentum start to change, before the branch snapped off. The change in momentum did swing him a bit closer to the tree trunk, but it also swung him into a tumbling spin. Harry considered his new flight path, and tried to pick the next branch that he could reach that he could use to get closer to the bigger branches.

It didn't look good. The only prospect wasn't going to come within reach of his hands, just his right foot. He could touch it with his foot, but even he couldn't grasp it with his toes, especially since they were in his trainers! Then he remembered that he had been able to walk on the ceiling in his trainers, so like Spiderman, his wall walking powers would work regardless what he was wearing. He could simply will his foot to stick to the branch!

As his foot neared the branch, he willed it to stick as hard as he could. He tried to estimate how far the branch would bend before it broke, and where that would send him next, but even with plenty of time, in his odd slow motion state, he couldn't be sure. This branch was slightly larger than the first one he'd reached, and as soon as his foot stuck to it, it too began to bow. Harry watched the branch bend, holding his breath unconsciously. It bent nearly double before breaking with a loud crack.

Harry fell with a piece of the branch still sticking to the bottom of his trainer. He took in the new direction of his fall with growing panic. He'd accidentally hit a gap, where no branches would come within his reach!

He fell ten feet with his mind racing. Harry knew he was picking up speed, and the ground was still thirty feet below. He fell another ten feet, and flashed passed one of the largest branches of the tree, tantalizingly just out of reach.

He thought, "If only I could spin webs like Spiderman does!"

Harry was stunned by the thought. Then, he grinned. He aimed his hand toward the large branch and wished desperately that he could shoot webbing. Suddenly, a tight strand of webbing shot from the heel of his hand toward the branch. When the webbing hit the branch, it splashed outward slightly and clung. With a huge whoop of combined relief and joy, Harry grasped his end of the webbing with both hands and swung on the end of it.

Once he had gained enough upward motion to reach another large branch in the tree, Harry released the webbing, spun into a flip, and landed on the branch. He stared at his hands in wonder and began to chuckle. He just had to talk this over with himself.

Harry said, "Ok. I have another power like Spiderman. I wonder if I can do as many different things with webbing as he can? He could make a wide web, like a trampoline, thick webs that were very strong, or just keep spinning webs to completely wrap up a target. Also, I wonder how long my webbing lasts? The bigger or thicker the web, the sooner it dissipated. Hopefully, my webbing will behave the same. After all, I don't want webbing hanging everywhere for years. Well, time for more experiments!"

Harry climbed swiftly back to the treetops, where he couldn't be seen from below. He began shooting webs. Each time, he merely had to think what he wanted to have the webbing do, and it did so flawlessly. He made thin webs that he connected to the tree he was standing on, creating a spray of pathways to nearby trees. Then, he connected a wide web below, connecting all the nearby trees, so that it would serve as a safety net. Finally, he concentrated on making the thickest strongest web he could and shot it at the nearest tree trunk.

Harry wondered just how strong his webbing was. He made sure that his feet were anchored to the tree branch he was standing on and began to pull on the thick strand he'd just made. Surprisingly, to Harry at least, the webbing stretched. He kept pulling, the webbing kept stretching, and it got harder and harder to pull. Without warning, the bark on the branch Harry was stuck to suddenly ripped off the branch. Before he could let go, Harry was snapped forward with tremendous speed, right towards the trunk of the tree that the thick web had been attached to.

Time seemed to slow down for Harry again. This time though, he was still moving swiftly. He didn't have much time to decide what to do before he slammed into the tree. With both hands, he spun a wide web between major branches of the tree he was headed for. Then, he spun around and shot a web back toward the tree he'd been yanked from.

With growing dismay, Harry watched the webbing shoot back toward the tree, and instantly he knew he was moving too fast and the webbing was moving too slowly for it to reach in time. Even with his slowed sense of time, he barely had a chance to regret his mistake before hitting the safety net he'd placed in front of himself. He felt it slowing him down, but not enough! It stretched as it slowed him, but he still slammed into the tree so hard that he left a Harry shaped depression stripped of bark.

Unconscious, Harry's body peeled off the tree and started to fall. It was nearly forty feet to the ground. Harry hit several branches on the way down, but the last twenty feet was clear, and he plummeted into the ground with a loud thud and lay motionless.

Carrie Bowman was taking the shortcut to the park playground from her house on Magnolia Crescent. As she skipped through the trees, she heard a crash high in the trees, followed by more crashing through the branches then a loud thud nearby. She stopped in surprise, and not a little fear.

To hear her own voice, Carrie said, "What was that?"

The thud had come from her right, some ways off the path she normally used to get through the woods in the park. She started cautiously towards where she thought the sounds had come from. As she came around the trunk of a large tree, Carrie saw a young boy lying on the ground, unmoving.

With a gasp of dismay, she darted to his side and fell to her knees. She didn't know what to do! If the boy had made the noise falling from the tree, he could be badly hurt, or even dying!

At first, Carrie didn't recognize the boy, since his face was half covered in blood, leaves, mud, and some sort of sticky threads. He looked as if he were about her age, and then she saw he was the boy she'd led to class on Wednesday. She hadn't seen him since that day. His big, fat, ugly, mean cousin had told the teacher he was home with the flu. She leaned closer for a better look.

Harry was his name, she remembered, and now he had a big knot on his forehead, right next to a big lightning bolt shaped scar. Both of his eyes were swollen and turning black. His nose was flattened and bent. There wasn't as much blood as she had thought at first. He only had a tiny gash touching his old scar.

She sat back on her heels. What should she do? He didn't seem to be in too good of shape, but he wasn't moving, and she couldn't carry him. Staring at him with concern, Carrie saw a dim blue glow growing around the bruises on his face. Her eyes shot wide, and she scrambled back, only to fall on her bum feet away. The dim glow grew brighter and brighter, and got larger and larger. Before she could move again, the edge of the glow touched her foot.

A sense of peace and safety swept through her. Carrie felt wonderful! No longer afraid, she crept back to Harry's side. As she moved into the blue glow, she felt better and better. She reached out, and gently touched his face. Consciousness fled, and she fell to his side. Their faces were inches apart, and her hand was cupping Harry's face.

Harry groaned and opened his eyes. All he could see was a tousled mass of dark brown hair. He felt warmth on the side of his face and turned his head to find a small hand. Harry pulled the hand away from his face and sat up. He wobbled a bit as various aches and the pull of stiff muscles threw him off balance.

Looking down, Harry saw a young girl wearing jeans and a sky-blue t-shirt. Her dark brown hair once had been pulled back into a ponytail, but most of it had pulled loose now, and had fallen around her face. What was she doing here? And why was she unconscious and lying next to him?

Harry couldn't see her face. So, he let go of her hand and gently brushed the hair away from her face so he could see it. To his surprise, she was the girl that he'd met the first day of school. She was in his class, but he couldn't remember her name. That he couldn't remember her name, made him feel a bit sad, since she had been nice to him. Harry was worried. Why was she still asleep or unconscious? What had happened?

Harry remembered playing in the treetops, and the experiments with his webbing. He looked up and couldn't see any remnants of the webs he'd spun, but there, high in the tree, was a spot where the bark had been knocked off. Is that where I hit? He thought in wonder. How was he even alive, after a fall from that height?

Harry looked down at the cute girl. He examined her face, closely. When he'd met her at school, his vision had been so bad that he hadn't been able to make out any details, even from fairly close range. She had an oval face with high cheekbones, a wide mouth with full lips that must look wonderful when she smiled. She didn't have a mark on her, so Harry decided to try to wake her up.

Gingerly, Harry touched her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. He said, "Hey. Wake up, please."

The girl's eyes flickered open, unfocused and distant at first. Soon though, her eyes came into focus and swept up to meet Harry's concerned look. She sat up suddenly.

She gave a little frown and demanded, "What happened? What did you do to me?"

Taken aback, Harry rocked back on his heels and raised his hands defensively. He quickly answered, "What did I do to you? What do you mean? All I know is that I fell and hit my head!"

She moved closer "Fell? I guess you fell! I heard you crashing down out of the trees and hit the ground hard! Then, when I came to see if you were all right, you started glowing!"

"Glowing?"

Eyes flashing in anger, she leaned close, and demanded "Yeah! It started as this dim blue glow around your bruises, but kept getting brighter and brighter and bigger and bigger! Then, when I touched you, it knocked me out! So, What did you do to me?"

Harry's eyes flew wide. He had no idea what she was on about. He ducked his head and said weakly, "I don't know."

Carrie looked closer. His face was still covered in dried blood and mud but most of the leaves had fallen away. Her eyes opened wide as she realized his nose was no longer flat and crooked, the huge goose egg on his forehead was gone, and his eyes were no longer swollen and black!

In wonderment, she asked, "How did you do that? You had two black eyes, your nose was flat and crooked, and you had a big goose egg and a cut on your forehead. Now, they're all gone! What did you do? Was that what that glow was?"

Harry stammered desperately, "I, I don't know!" He clenched his fists and fought back the tears. This was stranger than his Spiderman powers. Even Spiderman didn't glow! What was happening to him?

Seeing the hurt in his eyes, and the tears brimming in his eyes, Carrie did what she always did for her little sisters when they felt bad. She pulled Harry into a hug. He stiffened and didn't hug her back, but she thought that was just because he was being a stupid boy. Harry started to sob uncontrollably, and she felt his hot tears falling on her shoulder. She patted him on the back then pulled back so she could look him in the eyes.

Harry pulled away and tried to cover his face. He didn't want her to see him crying like a baby. Gently, Carrie pulled his unresisting hands down then clasped his face in both hands.

"Harry, you might not remember my name. It's Carrie, Carrie Bowman. I want to be your friend."

She paused when she saw hope in his eyes. She guessed he'd expected her to make fun of him for crying. So, she brushed his tears off his cheeks, and smiled. Carrie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Then, she said, "Don't worry. It is just strange, not bad. I mean, you were hurt and now you're not. That can't be all bad, now can it?"

Harry flashed back to all the beatings he'd taken at the hands of his relatives. Sometimes, he'd been so hurt he couldn't move, but always, the next day he'd been able to do all of his chores. He gave Carrie a tentative smile.

"You know what Carrie? You're right! I think this has happened before, but I was always unconscious and never saw any glow!"

Carrie smiled, but she thought it was strange that Harry talked as if him being knocked unconscious happened all the time. Until today, Carrie had never been unconscious except when sleeping. She shook her head, and when she did so, she saw with disgust that there was a leaf tangled in her hair. She stood and brushed herself off, and then pulled her hair towards her face and raked the leaves out with her fingers. When she finished, she pulled off her hair band, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it through the hair band.

Harry, too, rose and brushed himself off as best he could. He didn't have nearly as much success though because he was covered in dry caked on mud. One critical look at Harry, and Carrie grabbed his hand and led him off.

She didn't even look back, as she said, "Come on, Harry. Let's get you cleaned up."

Carrie led them back to her small, well-worn path through the woods. Harry didn't care where they went, as long as her soft, warm little hand held his. They came out of the edge of the forest facing the swings of the playground, but Carrie angled off to the left towards the privies. When they got there, she didn't even slow down and led Harry into the Women's side of the restrooms. Harry balked briefly, but Carrie flashed him a glare and gave a tug on his hand, and so he meekly followed her in.

She marched them both over to the side-by-side sinks and finally released his hand. Harry felt at loss until he saw his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he'd been dragged down ten miles of bad road. He glanced over to Carrie, and saw her already splashing water on her face, trying to scrub the smudges away. With a sigh, he turned on the water and did the same, but without pausing every few seconds to glance at his reflection. He didn't have to, since every square inch of his face and most of his hair had been covered in grime.

For several minutes, the water Harry splashed on his face came off reddish brown, the color of dried blood and mud. When the water began to run clear, he cupped his hands and trickled water into his hairline. Again, the water ran brown. Finally, when the water was mostly clear, Harry stood and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His messy black hair was matted down, and his clothing was filthy, but at least his face, hair and hands no longer looked like he'd been rolling in the mud.

Carrie had already finished with her cleanup. When Harry finished he turned to her with a grin.

"There! All better now," he said.

Carrie shook her head with a grimace.

"No, no! This will never do! Those clothes look too big, so they're probably play clothes. But still! What will your mum say now that you've ruined them?"

Harry froze, then turned away, blinking tears from his eyes.

In a flat, halting voice, he managed to choke out, "My mum and dad both died when I was a baby. I live with my aunt, uncle and cousin." Then, he continued in a flash of anger, "And these are my best clothes! They never buy me anything! I have to wear Dudley's old clothes!"

Carrie saw the pain, sorrow, anger, embarrassment, and despair flare up in her new friend's eyes. With a gasp she leapt towards him and pulled him into a hug. This time, he squeezed her back before she pulled away.

In a rush, Carrie blurted, "I'm sorry Harry! I didn't know! Please say you'll forgive me?"

Harry gave her a tentative smile. Then he reached for her hand.

"How could you know? I don't like to talk about it. In fact, you're the first person I've ever told. There wasn't ever anybody to listen, before."

Carrie squeezed Harry's hand, and said brightly, "Well there is, now! Come on. Let's go to my house. Maybe my mum can do something about your clothes."

Her wide, friendly smile, and her tiny, soft hand gave Harry an unfamiliar warm feeling. In a daze, Harry followed as Carrie retraced her steps through the woods and the gap in the hedge. Finally, they turned onto a path the led along the backyard fences of the houses on Magnolia Crescent. When they came to a well-maintained privacy fence with a gate, she opened it and entered. He followed her into what must be her backyard.

Immediately Harry was overwhelmed, by the sounds of two little girls' laughter, by the riot of floral colors, and by the sense of peace and harmony that seemed to flow into him from all directions. He stopped to try and understand what he was feeling, and why. The difference seemed to be the amount of loving care that had been lavished on this place, though it was not the precise, orderly, close-trimmed regimentation of the Dursley's yard.

Feeling a tug on his hand, Harry followed Carrie up a stepping-stone path that wended its way through a huge flower garden. This time of year, not much was blooming, except for the hardy Mums, and a few surviving Canna Lilies. A low hedge of Dwarf Burning Bushes were already turning their scarlet best, at the border between the flower garden and the rest of the back yard.

Two younger, black haired girls were chasing each other around the yard, giggling madly. The smaller one, had curly hair, and the bigger one had straight hair. Harry glanced at his friend's hair, and there was that warm feeling again. Blinking away the distraction, he finally noticed that Carrie's hair was neither straight nor curly, but in between, with long waves.

While Harry was lost in contemplation of his new friend's hair, two little bundles of energy came running over. Carrie introduced her sisters, Lana the four-year-old with the long straight hair, and Lisa the three-year-old with the middle length curly hair. Seeing them all together, he saw that they all had a deep golden, almost Mediterranean complexion, with a smattering of freckles widely scattered over their bodies.

Just then, a tall slender woman came out onto the huge redwood deck. Carrie dragged Harry through her sisters and rushed them up the steps to meet her mother.

"Mum, this is my friend Harry. He's in my class at school. I just found him in the park, but he's ruined his clothes," Carrie said in a rush.

Carrie's mum bent to one knee and pulled her into a hug with a chuckle. When Carrie ducked her head in embarrassment, her mum made it worse by planting a big kiss on her cheek. Carrie tried to rub off the wetness of the kiss and flushed, making her mum laugh warmly.

Harry watched in fascination. The only example of how a family behaved that he'd ever had was the Dursleys. Compared to the easy affection, gentle teasing, and obvious love he was seeing here, it was a distinct contrast with the stiff formality, screaming tirades and obvious loathing that his relatives had always shown him.

Mrs. Bowman held out her hand to Harry, and said in greeting, "Hello, Harry. Pleased to meet you. Why don't you come inside and we'll get you cleaned up. OK?"

Harry took her hand, and said, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bowman, and thank you."

"What a little gentleman you are, Harry. Well, come along," she said as she stood gracefully.

Still holding Harry's hand she pulled him towards the patio door leading in from the deck. Carrie grabbed his free hand as he passed. Harry watched Mrs. Bowman's slender body as she opened the sliding door. She looked much younger than his aunt. Instead of being gaunt, with a prominent nose on a horse-like face, and no grace, as was his aunt; she was beautiful, lithe and graceful.

As soon as she had them all inside she turned and placed both hands on her hips.

"OK! Both of you! Out of those filthy clothes, right now. I'm not having you tracking mud all through the house," she said firmly, but with a big smile.

Harry ducked in embarrassment. Nobody had seen him in his underwear since he'd been forced to bath and dress himself over two years ago. Trying to ignore how he felt, he toed off both shoes and skinned his oversized shirt over his head without even unbuttoning it. At the moment of truth, Harry turned his back to them and unbuckled the belt holding up his pants. His pants fell to the floor.

He was so self-conscious; that he thought the gasp he heard was because his horrid clothes, or his stick-thin body, or worse yet, his gray, stained underwear disgusted them. He shuddered and clamped his arms over his chest, head bowed. Two gentle hands fell on his shoulders, and urged him to turn around.

A gentle voice spoke, "Oh, Harry! How did you get so many scars and bruises?"

Harry's lip trembled, and he choked on a sob. Warm arms pulled him into a hug, and he cried shamelessly, cradled in caring arms for the first time in his memory.

Harry started awake and sat up. A warm thick blanket fell to his waist as he sat up on a big overstuffed couch. It was nearly dark outside. Harry looked around the room in the growing gloom. It appeared to be a cozy den. Much used, comfy furniture, an inviting hearth, and a row of large windows facing out over the back yard.

Harry spotted a pile of clothes on the coffee table. They weren't his clothes though. He held up the collared knit shirt, and it looked like it would fit him better than the Dudley hand-me-down he had been wearing. So, he pulled over his head. He pulled on the jeans and snapped the snap. They didn't fall down! They were the first pair of trousers he'd ever worn that didn't fall down without a belt! There was even a pair of socks that didn't have any holes!

Ready to face the world again, Harry headed for the double doors and the light beyond. He opened the door and blinked to let his eyes adjust. He could see Mrs. Bowman working on dinner in the kitchen with her back to him, and a large, lanky man with three little girls cuddled on the couch. Since no one had heard or seen him, Harry headed into the kitchen to help out.

Harry stopped a step behind and to the right of Mrs. Bowman, and said, "What should I do to help?"

She gave a small shriek and jumped a foot in the air, and came down clutching her hands between her breasts. She looked at him with wide eyes, and seeing him flinch away, she forced herself to calm down. "Harry, you just startled me! I'm not angry. I just didn't even know you were there. It's OK. Oh! Those clothes fit you much better, just run in and sit with the girls until dinner is ready."

Harry started to turn to do as she asked, but then asked, "Where did you get these clothes? They do fit me. But I thought you just had girls, so why do you have boys clothes?"

"Well, my little brother, Jake, is off to University now. Those are his old clothes. My mother kept everything. When she passed last year, we just packed everything and stored it here in the garage. Now, off with you. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you for letting me borrow these clothes, I'll get them back to you tomorrow, after I wash them," Harry said.

"No, you don't understand, Harry. You can keep those clothes. Plus, we have a lot more that you could have, since we were just going to throw them away or donate them anyways. We just never got around to going through all of that stuff. After all, the girls wouldn't be caught dead wearing boys' clothes. Now, go! Dinner isn't going to make itself," she said, brandishing her wooden cooking spoon, but with a wide smile belying her threat.

Harry started towards the living room. He saw that the girls were watching some Disney movie with their dad. The little one, Lisa, sat on his lap, and the two older girls cuddled up against both sides. Harry hesitated, since he didn't know Mr. Bowman, but then, decided that if he had a wonderful wife and daughter like Carrie, he had to be a good man.

Harry stepped around the couch and Carrie saw him. She leapt to her feet, grabbed Harry's hand and said, "Dad, I'd like you to meet my friend, Harry."

Mr. Bowman had corded muscle that moved smoothly as he set his youngest daughter by his side and stood. Harry looked up to meet his gaze, then looked up some more. Mr. Bowman was over two meters tall, and didn't look to have any fat on his well-muscled frame. Harry gulped, but stuck out his hand.

"Hello, Mr. Bowman," Harry managed.

Mr. Bowman carefully took Harry's tiny hand in his huge one.

Mr. Bowman smiled and said, "Hello, Harry. I think we need to have a talk before dinner. Let's go into the den, OK?"

Mr. Bowman ruffled Carrie's hair and told her to watch the movie with her sisters and led Harry back into the den. Carrie gave Harry a look of concern, as he seemed worried and reluctant to follow, but follow he did.

As Harry reentered the den, he saw the room as it was meant to be, glowing with warm light. Mr. Bowman was standing before the windows facing the back yard, with his hands clasp behind his back, slowly clenching and unclenching both hands. He seemed to be barely controlling his rage. Harry knew rage! He saw it most every day. Harry shot straight from worried to a 'fight or flight' response.

Mr. Bowman whirled, eyes blazing in anger, but seeing Harry step back, he blew out his breath and held up both hands, placatingly. He said, "Harry. I'm angry, no, make that enraged about what my wife told me, but not at you. But at that fat pig, your uncle! I didn't fight to protect this country, just so useless sacks of dung like Vernon Dursley could abuse a little boy!"

Harry didn't know what to say, and didn't know if he could have managed to speak through the huge lump in his throat, anyway.

"Harry, we need to get Vernon put away. We need to get you out of that house, to safety. No helpless young child should have to worry about safety, but it is my duty, no my privilege, now that I know about this, to report it to the proper authorities."

Harry shook his head tears brimming in his eyes, but still not trusting his voice. Mr. Bowman stepped closer and bent to one knee. He pulled Harry into a hug and let him cry.

After a moment, Mr. Bowman asked, "Harry. Son, can I take a look at your back? From what my wife told me, you've been subjected to long-term physical abuse bordering on torture or even attempted murder. It is not your fault. Can you show me?"

Harry let the big strong hands turn him and raise the back of his new shirt. Well, it wasn't a new shirt, but it was new to him. He heard Mr. Bowman's breath catch, then felt a gentle touch trace each of his scars. It took awhile, there were so many. Finally, Mr. Bowman tugged his shirt back down.

"I won't ever let him hurt you again, Harry," he promised, with a catch in his deep basso voice.

Harry spun to face him and looked at him searchingly. He said, firmly, "Don't worry Mr. Bowman. He can't hurt me any more. Besides, if you report him, what would happen to me?"

Harry watched Mr. Bowman's face, as puzzlement, concern and dismay all fought for preeminence. He protested, "But Harry, you're only five years old, and he outweighs you six to one or more! I admit, I'm not sure where you'd end up, but any place where you aren't being tortured regularly has to be an improvement!"

Harry thought furiously. How could he explain? Did he even want to stay with the Dursleys? Would leaving them be a good thing or not? He had an arrangement with his aunt, at least. He had gained his freedom, and there was nothing his uncle could really do about it. But did he want to tell this family about his newfound abilities? Could he trust them?

With his thoughts in such a whirl, Harry temporized, "Mr. Bowman, could you and your wife walk me home after dinner? Then, you can see the changes. My uncle doesn't dare treat me badly, now."

Gray eyes looked searchingly into green. Mr. Bowman saw the surety and the confidence, but didn't understand how it could be.

He huffed, "Okay, Harry. We'll see. Now, let's go eat."

Harry enjoyed the meal. The food was great! The chatter of the little girls entranced him. Even the messes and spills taught him that not every error need be corrected loudly or violently. They just needed to be cleaned up, with a gentle admonishment. He had never had such an enjoyable meal.

After dinner, Harry said goodnight to each of the girls. He was surprised and a bit embarrassed when all three of them gave him hugs and kisses on the cheek. Harry and Mr. and Mrs. Bowman walked down to the far end of Magnolia Crescent and turned onto Privet Drive. When they reached #4, Harry stepped up on the stoop and rang the doorbell.

Aunt Petunia answered the door, and seeing Harry slipped outside. "Where have you been Harry? Vernon is in a right state. He's been going on about you destroying the house and injuring him."

Mr. and Mrs. Bowman shared a puzzled look. Just then, Vernon bellowed from inside, "Is that freak back at last?"

Harry looked back to see Mr. Bowman's mouth set in a grim line. He plead, "Please, Mr. Bowman. Let me take care of this."

They heard heavy steps with an odd clumping sound, and Vernon threw the door open. He was using a cane with one hand, and holding a fireplace poker in the other. His eyes were bulging. He was so angry he was practically frothing at the mouth.

Vernon Dursley's walrus like mustache billowed with ever word. "What are you doing here? I would have thought that after destroying my house you would be in jail! No! Jail is too good for you! The doctor says my bits might never work right after what you did to me!"

Vernon stepped onto the stoop and raised the poker above his head, meaning to smash it down on Harry. Mr. Bowman had just started to dart forward to intercept the blow, when the poker slashed down.

Harry had had enough. If the only thing Vernon understood was force, then force was what he'd get. As time slowed for Harry, he waited until the poker had arced down into his reach. Then, he reached up and caught the poker and stopped its descent, instantly. Vernon was still trying to comprehend what had happened and Mr. Bowman was still moving forward, when Harry yanked the poker out of his uncle's hands.

It took a couple of seconds for everyone else to realize what had happened. By then, Vernon was just beginning to back up towards the door, and Mr. Bowman was standing behind Harry, looming menacingly.

Harry poked his uncle's huge roll of fat with the poker and said, "Go inside and sit down, Uncle."

Mr. Bowman whispered, "How did you do that, Harry? You moved so fast, I could barely see it!"

Harry merely motioned for his aunt and the Bowman's to precede him through the door. Harry urged everyone to sit, and then began, "I don't know exactly how this happened to me. Have you ever heard of the comic book hero Spiderman?"

When everyone shook their heads, Harry went on, "Well, he was supposed to have been bitten by a radioactive spider which gave him tremendous powers. Strength, speed, agility, and the ability to walk on walls." With that said, Harry leapt upward in a half flip and landed on the ceiling and clung with his feet.

Vernon's eyes bulged wide in shock, and a bit of fear. Aunt Petunia had seen him demonstrate some of his abilities, but was still startled into a gasp. But the Bowman's, the Bowman's were simply stunned into immobility and silence!

Harry hung there for a moment more, then crouched and placed one hand on the ceiling and released both of his feet and hung by one hand. He then did a flip off the ceiling and landed on his other hand in a handstand on the floor. He was facing his uncle and had a huge grin plastered on his face.

With another deft half-flip, Harry was standing facing his audience once more. He said, "I didn't get bitten by a spider. I just wished I had Spiderman's powers. Now, it seems, I have them! So, uncle, you can't hurt me any more. I don't want to hurt you, really. I just want to be left alone. I'll even do some of the chores around here, just not all of them."

Mrs. Bowman finally found her voice, "Harry, that is amazing! But don't you want justice for all the pain this wretched man has caused you?"

Vernon gulped as he saw the look of malicious glee come over his nephew's face. He waited for his reply with a healthy dose of self-interest and fear.

Harry said, gleefully, "I said I didn't want to hurt him. I never said I didn't want to extract a bit of justice!"

Vernon Dursley moaned in fear, then rushed for the guest bathroom and lost the huge dinner he'd just eaten.

Edited By TeNderLoin 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman

Chapter 3

Awards and a Meeting

Nine-year-old Harry Potter sat nervously next to his best friend, Carrie Bowman. They were about to go up on stage in front of hundreds of people. Harry had grown to take pride in his scholastic accomplishments, but pride was not his motivation. He learned because of the sheer joy in doing so. Today, he and Carrie were both to receive national awards: Harry for his excellence in History, Physics and Economics, and she for English and Literature. There was also a third recipient, who would be receiving awards for Math, Reading, Biology and Foreign Languages, but she hadn't arrived yet.

As had become the norm over the years, since Harry had gained his powers, the Bowman family was standing in for his relatives. Harry's uncle still wanted nothing to do with him. He didn't allow his wife or son to do anything to show any support for him in any way.

Harry couldn't restrain a grin at the memory of his uncle's response to his latest prank. He'd set the table for breakfast, but used a tiny amount of webbing to secure all of Vernon's silverware to the table. So, after heaping his plate full of food, as normal, he'd been unable to use his silverware!

Glaring at Harry, but unwilling to say a word, he'd grabbed his fork with both hands and yanked as hard as he could. The webbing holding the fork down was tiny. So, subjected to that much force, it stretched and broke. Still straining with all his might, when the webbing snapped, Vernon drove the tines of his fork into his own shoulder. His eyes had widened in shock as he screamed in pain.

Harry had chuckled under his breath. Vernon had never gotten to eat breakfast that day. Harry never tried to hurt his uncle directly, but if his uncle's overreactions and short temper caused him a bit of pain along the way, it was all good, as far as Harry was concerned. The man just never learned.

Harry looked over at his best friend. She was reading the Christmas present he'd gotten her. The complete works of Shakespeare, bound in leather. He leaned over to see what play she was reading, and smirked. Sure enough, she was rereading Romeo and Juliet! Sometimes having three sisters as his closest friends was a bit of work.

They were a bit of work, yes, but had always proven worth it. Since that night, years ago, the Bowman family had treated him like one of their own. He went with them on Holiday. He ate dinner at their house nearly every night. He went with them on all of the family outings to the movies, zoo, museums, castles, and the theater. All that, and he still tried to spend every moment he could with his best friend, Carrie.

Today, she wore a tartan skirt, and a matching vest sporting the family colors of black, gold and red. Her white blouse made a bright contrast to the darker tartan. He thought she looked smashing. In fact, the only time she wasn't with him was when he was off doing the yard work or minor home repairs. Harry had started doing that for some money to call his own. Usually, though, she'd still find a way to show up with a snack or a cool drink, if he had a long job to do.

He hadn't made the mistake that Peter Parker had. Rather than trying to cash in quickly on his powers, he'd simply chosen to take jobs that most boys twice his age struggled to do: cleaning gutters, washing windows, trimming trees, raking and mowing lawns, etc. He'd even started doing some landscaping. Harry hadn't had to spend much money on clothing yet, due to the cache that had come from Mrs. Bowman. He had only spent any of his own money to buy a bike, some treats for him and the girls and, of course, books.

He'd also started saving for University, since he was sure that Vernon wouldn't help him. Although he was an exceptional student, as evidenced by today's awards, he wasn't sure how much scholarship money he could count on. Besides, having over two thousand pounds in the bank, gave him a much-needed feeling of security and self-sufficiency. Especially since he couldn't count on his relatives, nor did he wish to impose any financial burden on the Bowmans.

Harry experienced a brief flicker of annoyance when he thought of the third award recipient. How could she read faster than he? After all, he could read as many as a dozen novels in a day! True, they had all been science fiction or fantasy, but still! And how fair was it that a test for the primary/junior levels had Ordinary Differential Equations for math? That was for second or even third year university math! Besides, Harry grumped, how could it even be called 'math', when there are no solutions, but only infinite families of solutions. Partial Differential Equations, now that he understood! Very useful stuff, especially in physics and structural dynamics! Still, this girl, Hermione Granger, had to be quite exceptional.

As if thinking of her had conjured her magically, a girl with bushy, brown hair and brown eyes shyly entered the room. She acted as if she didn't want to be noticed, as if that were possible in a bare ten-foot by ten-foot room, with just four chairs. Harry liked her red velvet dress. It set off her hair and eyes, and showed off her toned legs in her heavy white leggings. Sensing that Carrie would be better at bringing this shy girl out of her shell, Harry gave Carrie a nudge.

"You must be Hermione! Pleased to meet you, I'm Carrie and this uncouth dolt is Harry Potter, my best friend," said Carrie, giving Harry a mock glare and a wide grin.

"Hello," said Harry.

When she turned back to face Hermione, Harry's fingers poked her in the ribs, Carrie's most ticklish spot. She collapsed against him, giggling and squirming uncontrollably. Harry caught a brief flash of desperate longing in Hermione's eyes, as she watched their easy banter and camaraderie. He resolved to connect and stay in contact with the shy Miss Hermione Granger.

Harry considered the puzzle that was Hermione. She was brilliant, which no doubt put off most of her classmates. He guessed she was an only child, which meant she wasn't used to dealing with people her own age. Given her shyness and meek demeanor, despite her academic prowess, she was probably friendless and bullied. He decided to tweak her in one of her areas of expertise, just to see if she could defend herself in a friendly debate.

Harry stood and walked over to Hermione and offered his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, as if looking for the mocking cruelty she expected. Instead she found a warm smile, startling deep green eyes, and an odd scar above his right eye. Hesitantly, she reached up and took his hand. To her surprise, instead of shaking it, he bent and kissed the back of her hand. Her eyes widened in shock. He was the first person who was not a family member, to kiss her, ever. Even though the kiss was only to the back of her hand, her face burned into an instant blush.

Harry, still bent over her hand, looked her in the eyes and said; "I just wanted to congratulate the girl who beat me out in both the math and reading competitions."

When her blush got even deeper, Harry chuckled and went on, "I can't hardly believe anyone could read faster than me, since I read at nearly four thousand words per minute!"

Hermione's eyes were locked on his hands, which were still cradling her own.

She managed to squeak, "Eidetic memory."

Harry gave her hand a gentle squeeze and rubbed her palm with his thumb. She seemed mesmerized by his hands.

He said gruffly, "Well, that would do it, alright! Photographic too I suppose!"

Hermione's eyes darted fearfully to his, expecting to see rejection and anger. Instead, she found a mocking grin and a casual acceptance, which were completely at odds with his tone and words. She gave him a genuine smile.

Harry blinked in surprise. Her smile lit up her whole face. Where his first impression had been of a shy and relatively plain girl, her smile moved her from ordinary to extraordinary. She was very pretty, and definitely cute he decided. He shook his head slightly. This next bit might be tricky.

With exaggerated effect, Harry declared, "Still, I can't believe that they put a question about Ordinary Differential Equations on the math test!"

Hermione watched his eyes carefully, and tried to ignore that he still held her hand. She narrowed her eyes in surmise, and then came to a decision.

She pursed her lips into a moue, before saying coyly, "Surely you aren't one of those demanding that all mathematics have a specific solution? Where would be the fun in that?"

Harry sputtered indignantly. His entire line of attack in the argument had been derailed peremptorily, and effortlessly. After a few seconds, he watched Hermione's grin grow wider and he matched it with one of his own. He pulled her from her seat and into a hug. Like he had been, those many years ago, she was more than a bit stiff.

He murmured into her ear, "You're all right in my book, Hermione. It is truly a pleasure to meet you."

Harry waited for her to hug him back, and noticed that she had developed a couple of points of interest that Carrie hadn't… at least, not yet. When she gave him an answering squeeze, Harry released her with one arm and swung her to his side, one arm still around her waist. His hand fully enjoyed its grip at the top of the slight curve from her hip he noticed absently. Looking at his best friend, he saw the question in her eyes.

"Carrie, I think Hermione here could really use some friends. Come give her a big Bowman welcome, will you?"

Nodding, Carrie grinned, skipped two steps and threw her arms around them both, pulling them into a three-way hug. Giggling, she kissed them each on the cheek, and said, "Just wait until you meet my little sisters! They'll be all over you!"

Harry groaned, and gave Hermione a subtle squeeze to get her attention. When she looked his way, he gave her a much-aggrieved look, and said, "They're the Terrible Trio! Lana was born only nine months after Carrie, and Lisa came nine months later. So, Lana and Lisa are both only one grade behind us, and we have a hard time staying ahead of them in our studies!"

Hermione looked doubtfully to Carrie for conformation, and at her nod of agreement, gasped, "How old are they?"

"Well, I turned ten on December twenty-second. So, Lana will be ten on September twenty-first, and Lisa will be nine on June twenty-first."

"Wow! Did you realize that you are all born on a solstice or equinox?" Hermione asked in wonder.

Carrie tweaked Hermione's nose playfully as she said, dryly, "It may have come up a time or two."

Harry said, "Hermione, can we get your phone number and address? I only live a block from Carrie, so maybe we could get together sometimes, if we have a way to keep in touch with our new friend."

Hermione looked at the smiling faces of two people, no friends, still holding her in a three-way hug, and sniffled, "I'd like that. I think I'd like that a lot!"

After the awards ceremony, which Harry had found just as tedious and frightening as he had imagined… well, except for the rousing cheers for him and Carrie by her family. Still holding Hermione to his right and Carrie to his left, they were finally able to escape backstage, to meet up with their families. As soon as they made it to the foyer in front of the auditorium, the Bowman's saw them and two young knobby-kneed girls bolted their way, skirts flying.

The two didn't even slow down. Lana leapt at Harry, arms outstretched. He had to release the two girls at his sides to catch her. Lisa did the same to Carrie, but her older sister knew to step out of the line of fire a bit, so instead of being bowled over by Lisa's exuberance, the two swung into a spinning hug.

When the girls started firing staccato questions and comments at them both, never giving them a chance to get a word in edgewise, Hermione hid her giggle behind her hand. Silently, she agreed with Lisa: Harry had been the best-looking boy to receive an award.

Mr. and Mrs. Bowman joined them at a more leisurely pace. The Grangers' eyes were drawn to the commotion the younger girls were making. They were surprised to see their daughter in the middle of it, and moved to greet her.

When they saw their shy reclusive daughter, Hermione, holding her own in the chaos, and even teasing the other girl that had gotten the award, they shared a glance and slowed their approach. When she laughed and kissed the two younger girls she'd just met on the cheek, they squeezed each other's hands and joined the group. Hermione finally saw them. She gave them a brilliant smile, the one that they, her parents, had seen enumerable times, but that they'd never before seen in public.

"Mum! Dad! I'd like you to meet my new friends, Harry Potter and the Bowman family!" Hermione effused. She pointed to the three girls in age order, introducing them, "This is Carrie. She's ten, and in fourth year, like me. These two are Lana and Lisa. They're both third year, but Lana is nine and Lisa is eight, and yet they both finished in the top ten in several categories in this competition. Isn't that incredible?"

Both Don and Ellen Granger laughed aloud in agreement. Though they wanted to go congratulate their darling daughter, they both made the decision to let her connect with her new friends. They turned to the young looking couple for more personal introductions.

"Mr. Bowman? I'm Ellen Granger, and this is my husband, Don," the short brown haired woman said.

"Pleased to meet you, Ellen and Don. Name's Paul, and this is Lorna, the source of our daughters' beauty," said Mr. Bowman, with a wry grin.

After they had all shaken hands, and taken each other's measure, they turned to their offspring. Don Granger choked up as he saw that his daughter was unreservedly enjoying the company of others her own age for the first time since she was three. He looked sidelong at the large, sinewy man and his beautiful wife with thanks. Thanks for having such wonderful daughters, and thanks that they had made friends with his own wonderful, lonely, shy jewel.

"Paul, if you don't mind me asking, you look like you did some time in Her Majesty's Service. What do you and Lorna do? As for us, Ellen is an Orthodontic Surgeon, and I'm a Dentist."

Paul gave Don a considering look. He was average height, with a solid build, salt and pepper hair. Nothing extraordinary in appearance, but he moved well, with an assurance of where and what he was. Paul knew exactly what made one move that way and gave that look of casual self-assurance.

He nodded to Don, and said, "Did a tour as a Marine, and another with the SAS. When the girls came, my place was with them. Now, I teach martial arts and do some private security work on the side. Lorna here is the brains of the outfit. She's a sitting Professor of Education at Oxford. She took a few years sabbatical until the girls started school, and worked on her Post-Doctoral thesis while raising the three of them."

Ellen gave her a surprised look, and said, "Oxford? My, we live in Oxford! You simply must come by for dinner sometime soon."

While the women began to plan their lives, the two men moved to the side to let them get along with it. Don was watching the children, and Paul saw the moment when his eyes narrowed.

Don turned and demanded, "Where is Harry's family? He seems to be the linchpin of that group, even though the rest are girls. He just won National Academic Honors in three categories! He seems to be a fine, upstanding young lad, so where is his family?"

Paul sighed and answered, "Harry was orphaned when he was but a year old. He's been living with his mother's sister, her husband, and their child. The uncle is a piece of work. Harry still has the scars to prove it. Hell, I did two tours for Queen and Country, and the boy has more scars than I do! I'm just glad they didn't show up. The Dursley's are enough to lower the IQ of everyone in the room."

Apparently, the women were paying more attention to them then they had thought. Suddenly, Ellen Granger darted to stand in front of Paul and brown eyes blazing as she looked up into his.

She hissed up at him, "What? Why didn't you report him to the authorities? How could you let any child be subjected to abuse like that?"

"I didn't report the Dursleys, because Harry insisted I not do so. Harry stopped the abuse all on his own, but his uncle makes sure that they have as little to do with him, or his life, as possible. We have unofficially adopted Harry as a Bowman. He eats supper with us almost every day, and he goes everywhere with us. The girls love him like a brother, and we love him like the son we never had."

Somewhat mollified, Ellen grumbled, "That doesn't mean he should get away with it! And what do you mean, Harry stopped the abuse on his own?"

Paul laughed. Seeing both Grangers getting even more upset, he explained, "Never fear, Harry has extracted his pound of flesh… at least a hundred times! Dursley is still a huge, fat, whale of a man, but no longer is he threatening to become wider than he is tall! And it's all because of Harry. Harry is constantly pranking the man. He does it so often and so well! He keeps Dursley so nervous the man can hardly eat. Even when he does manage to stuff his face, he often can't keep it down! He's lost over a hundred pounds."

Don asked in disbelief, "How could a small boy protect himself so well from a, I believe the term you used was, huge, fat, whale of a man? Are you sure that the abuse has stopped?"

Lorna slid into Paul's arm, and snuggled into his side. She answered for him.

"Absolutely. Harry can defend himself better than you can possibly imagine."

Don frowned, and began to puzzle through the mystery aloud. "You said you teach martial arts now, Paul. I never got around to mentioning my own time with the SAS. But even so, you're right, I cannot imagine how a young boy could protect himself so well that he never had anything to fear from a full grown man. You didn't say how long ago this all happened, but even today, Harry can't weigh more than ninety pounds. All his uncle would have to do is sit on him, and there wouldn't be a thing he could do about it!"

Now, it was Paul's turn to be indignant. He threw his hands up, but muted the gesture slightly, keeping them below his shoulders.

Then, he pointed at Harry and demanded, "Look at him! I mean… really look at him! Does he look haunted, fearful, or defensive? He's over there in the middle of four of the brightest young girls his age in Briton. Not only is he holding his own, he's the leader, the center of attention! Do you think he could manage that if he had any lingering issues from his home life?"

Don and Ellen shared a grudging glance of acceptance.

Ellen shook herself and said, "Well, then… Lorna and I decided that we would all go out to dinner together, to celebrate. We'd better get going before the youngsters start gnawing on the furniture!"

As the Bowmans had a nine passenger SUV, it was agreed that rather than take two vehicles, everyone would pile into their huge Chevy Suburban. Lana sat between her parents on the bench seat in the front, Lisa sat between Don and Ellen Granger in the middle seat, and Hermione sat between Harry and Carrie in the back seat.

Still trying to get acquainted with their new friend, Carrie asked, "What sort of cars do your parents drive?"

Hermione blushed and said, surreptitiously, "Volvos. My parents always buy Volvos. Right now, they have three of them, one station wagon and two sedans. Volvo has the most impressive safety record of any car maker."

Harry snickered, "Yeah, and they're almost as expensive as Mercedes! And they have three of them?"

Carrie came to Hermione's defense, "Come on Harry! Give the girl a break. I think it's sweet that they put safety first! I mean, you've seen how some idiots drive on the M!"

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. He gave both girls his most disarming grin.

"I was just teasing her a bit. But, on to more important matters! You live in Oxford, Hermione? Since Carrie's mom drives to the campus there every day, we should be able to get together fairly often before school lets out. Besides, over the summer holiday, maybe you could come spend some time at Carrie's house. We could do some joint outings to London! Plus we don't start back to school until the week after New Year's Day."

Edited By TeNderLoin Proofread by SneakySis 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman

**Chapter 4**

Frogs and Snails and Puppydogs' Tails

Dinner was a wonderful whirlwind for Hermione. Best of all was the plan that was developed for the rest of the holidays. Since the Grangers had to keep office hours until New Year's Eve, Hermione would have been left home alone. The plan had Lorna picking her up when she made her trip to Oxford tomorrow. Hermione would then be spending the rest of the week at the Bowman's.

On New Year's Eve, the Bowmans, Harry and Hermione would head over to the Granger's for a nice Family New Year's Eve party and spend the night. The week of New Year's Day, the Granger's had closed their practice, but the Bowman's had to work. So, Harry, Carrie, Lana and Lisa were going to spend that entire week at the Grangers!

Hermione quivered with excitement. She'd never been to a friend's house for a sleep over, and now she was going to spend five days with her four new friends! She'd never had a friend sleep over, and now she was going to have four, for a whole week! And, one of them was a cute boy, a really cute boy that had become her friend. She could hardly wait!

The next morning, Hermione rose early even for her. She was too excited to stay in bed any longer, even though her clock said it was only five o'clock. She'd already packed a bag with her clothes, a couple of books she wanted to share with Harry and Carrie, and a book to read today while Mrs. Bowman was working at her office. She didn't know what to do with herself for the next three hours. Mrs. Bowman wasn't due to arrive until eight, and it wouldn't take her even thirty minutes to get ready.

What was she going to do with herself until then? Might as well get the necessities out of the way. She shook out her bushy hair from its nighttime ponytail, grabbed the clothes she wanted to wear for her first time on a college campus, and headed to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione despaired of ever conquering her unruly bushy hair. Even wet, she could barely get a brush through it! Oh how she wished she had beautiful hair like any one of the Bowman sisters, that fell in waves, or cute curls, or even straight and manageable hair.

Twenty more minutes, and Hermione had eaten her breakfast, brushed and flossed her teeth, and looked at the clock accusingly for the twentieth time. It just couldn't only be twenty minutes to six! With a sigh, she headed to the study, maybe she could knock out some orbital or analytical mechanics; the mathematics of precession were quite fascinating.

Caught up in the beautiful symmetry of mathematics, Hermione barely heard her parents getting ready to head to their practice. However, when the doorbell rang, she sprang from her desk, and raced to answer the door. Breathlessly, she opened the door, excitement making her pulse pound in her ears.

When Harry and Carrie waved at her with huge grins, Hermione's mouth opened and closed twice before they had mercy upon her and leapt forward to give her a hug.

Hermione finally found her voice, and grumped, "You two! I didn't know you were coming along today! I thought your mother was going to pick me up and that I'd be left to my own devices all day until she was ready to go home."

Harry gave an exaggerated pout. "Aren't you glad to see us?" Then, looking at Carrie, he gave a much-maligned sigh, and said, with exaggerated heartbreak, "I guess the honeymoon period of the relationship is over."

Carrie giggled at Harry's over done melodramatics. Then, pensively she asked, "Maybe you just need to make up?"

Hermione's eyes darted between the two. Her brain was just starting to reengage when Harry gave an exaggerated pucker and moved towards her lips. She froze up completely, and Harry planted a huge smooch on her lips. Still frozen, she blushed scarlet to her toes.

Mrs. Bowman finally had mercy on Hermione, and stepped into the house.

"Why don't you take these two rapscallions with you, and go gather your things? Don't forget to tell your parents goodbye!"

The noise of a small herd of elephants charging up the stairway brought the Grangers out to the foyer. They greeted Lorna warmly, and chatted until the herd reappeared. Harry was carrying Hermione's bag, with a box of books balanced on his other arm. Carrie was carrying a knapsack, no doubt filled with even more books, while Hermione was carrying a smaller, overnight bag.

Ellen snatched her progeny from the edge of the herd and pulled her into a warm hug. She murmured into Hermione's hair.

"Have fun, honey! We'll see you in a few days for the party. Now, be good and give your daddy a hug."

Hermione blurted in outrage, "Mum! You don't have to tell me to be good! How embarrassing! I'm not six!" Still, she gave her mum a squeeze, then leapt into her daddy's waiting arms.

Don caught his daughter and spun her around once. As he set her on her feet, he said, "Pumpkin, I'm glad you've found some friends your own age. I'm sure you'll be a perfect little lady, and still have fun. But, we'll miss you. Now, be off with you, before your mum starts with the waterworks."

Hermione felt her eyes moisten and turned to leave. She saw Harry staring at her with a smirk, and mouthed, "Pumpkin?"

Hermione smacked his shoulder and blushed. She'd hit him harder than she'd meant to and her hand stung, but Harry didn't seem to notice, and just widened his grin. Out of the side of his mouth, Harry said, "Come on, Pumpkin. Let's get your bags in the boot."

Hermione gave Harry's back a severe stare. Briefly, she wondered how he was managing to carry the thirty-pound box of textbooks so effortlessly, but then she heard Carrie giggle. She turned her hard stare on Carrie suspiciously.

Seeing Hermione's expression, Carrie said, "Please don't take it wrong, Hermione! That he feels close enough to you to tease you is a good thing. Talking to most people he hardly feels is worth the effort."

Hermione huffed, and gave Carrie a tentative smile as she said, "I'm just not used to having people know me well enough to tease. It's just a bit embarrassing."

Carrie used one arm to pull Hermione in close, and whispered into her ear, "You just need some ammunition so you can tease Harry back. For instance, did you know he's hopelessly ticklish?"

Harry placed the box and bag in the boot, and turned to see the girls approaching him with evil grins. A bit leery, he took their burdens and added them to the boot and closed it. Heading around the car, he saw Carrie still giving him an evil smirk as she held the door open, waiting for him to get in the back seat. Looking at Carrie askance, Harry climbed into the back seat, only to find Hermione sitting next to the opposite door. Then, Carrie slid in, and shoved him over with her hip. Harry was sure that the girls on either side of him were up to something.

As Harry reached for both ends of his seatbelt, both girls dug their fingers into his ribs with an explosion of giggles. Harry flinched, twisted, and tried to trap their hands, but as soon as he'd capture one of their hands, they'd bring the other hand in to tweak him in the ribs again! Harry was still twisting and giggling wildly when Lorna opened the driver's door. She gave the wild twisting mass in the back seat a glance and slid in behind the wheel.

As she started the car, Lorna said in an off hand way, "You might want to let up on Harry, and give him a chance to breathe."

As Lorna pulled away for the short drive to the Oxford campus, the giggling died down and turned to an excited discussion of the campus, the holiday plans, and the sleeping arrangements. When Lorna pulled her Toyota into her parking space in front of the Education Building, the kids exploded from the back seat.

Lorna laughed at the excitement on all of their faces. She pulled a twenty-pound note from her purse and gave it to Carrie.

"Now, I'm going to be busy until at least mid-afternoon," she said, "so use that to buy all of you lunch. Check back with me at about two this afternoon. First though, come inside with me, and I'll show you my office. There you can link up with my grad student, Amy, who has graciously offered to be your guide about campus today."

Hermione was staring at the beautiful old ivy-covered stone building with awe. Then, she spun in a circle to stare at the surrounding buildings with delight.

Hermione gushed, "Oh, wow! None of these buildings are less than four hundred years old! It is so beautiful and peaceful!"

Carrie gasped, and asked, aghast, "You live in this town, and yet you haven't ever been here before?"

Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment, as she said softly, "No, my parents went to Cambridge. So, they hold Oxford in a certain distain, even though half of my tutors are students here."

Lorna harrumphed, "Well! We'll just have to show off the second oldest University in the world and the oldest in the English-speaking world! Come along, you lot."

She led them off towards the huge, ornate, recessed main entrance door, set in a beveled arch. The ivy crawled up the walls three stories around the entry and the children were taken by the sense of history and age that pervaded the place.

As they passed through the heavy oaken doors, they stepped into another age. The floors were wide oak planks, and like the floor they could see above them, supported by even heavier oak beams. Centuries of buffing and countless footfalls had polished the oak to a glistening, rich sheen. Solid, rough-hewn granite walls were lit by the only nod to the twentieth century, a series of fluorescent lights strung down the center of the hallway. All of the interior woodwork was done in heavy hand-carved native woods: walnut, oak, maple, hickory, and chestnut.

When they got to an intersection with a hallway leading down one of the wings that extended off the front face of the building, Lorna led them about halfway down the wing to her office. The three-inch thick door was already unlocked, so she opened it and held it for them to precede her inside. Three of the four tiny cubbyholes in the front room were already occupied.

"Good morning, gang!" Lorna said to the group. They stood, and came over for introductions. She waved at the students, and said, "These are my graduate assistants, Amy, Todd, and Michelle. I call them collectively 'the Three Treecutters', but you'll have to get them to explain the reference. I'd like to formally introduce you to three of the brightest young people I've ever known. First, this is my oldest daughter, Carrie. Then there's Hermione Granger, whom we just met at the National Academic Awards, yesterday. And, finally, this is Harry."

Amy interrupted at that point and rushed forward to grab Harry's hand in both of hers. "Well, bless my soul. It's Harry Potter! This is a distinct pleasure, Harry."

Harry didn't understand Amy's effusive greeting or why she had singled him out after being introduced to all three of them. Harry, Carrie and Hermione looked at each other, and then at the three graduate students quizzically.

Lorna gave Amy a bemused look, then looked between Harry and Carrie apologetically, "Now, I need to beg your forgiveness. I'm not sure I ever explained how much research and documentation I've done on you two over the years. The two of you are central to proving some of my theories on child rearing and education. So, don't be surprised by these three's knowledge about you. Hermione, I'll need to ask for your parents' approval, but I'd first like to ask you to think about if we might include a comparison between your learning methods, and these other two?"

Before Hermione could answer, Carrie gave her mother a glare. "Have you been experimenting on us, Mum?"

"No! Other than getting you two the best tutors I could find that believed in allowing students to learn at their own best pace, I have done nothing. Their theories of education tied closely with some of my own research. All we have done here is to document your progress and accomplishments.

"Now Amy has volunteered to be your guide today, but the rest of us are going to be busy. So, off you go."

Amy played the part of enthusiastic tour guide as they explored each of the three floors of the building. She pointed out the various classrooms and discussed the professors that taught in each one. They finished with the huge old building in just under an hour, and by then the three youngsters were tired of just looking at empty classrooms.

Hermione asked, "Can we see the library now? Or the bookstore?"

Amy pulled up just shy of the door and turned to see the Carrie and Harry nodding in agreement. She gave them an enigmatic smile.

"Most certainly… if you don't see anything else that draws your attention on the way."

They stepped out into the chilly morning air, and pulled their coats closed to keep out the breeze. They headed down a walk, decorated with small piles of snow on either side, towards a second building. Hermione was giddy with excitement. She loved libraries, especially old ones. Both Harry and Carrie were both more interested in the bookstore, since there they would see the books that the students were using for their classes. Then, Harry saw something out of the corner of his eye. Nestled in a copse of trees was a small odd-looking greenhouse, faceted like a gem. The peculiarities made him stop short, and since he was still holding both of the girl's hands, they were pulled up short as well.

Both girls started to ask Harry why he'd pulled them to a stop. Instead he blurted, "Do you see that? What is that?" They looked at where he was staring and saw the odd greenhouse too. Their protests trailed off.

Amy came up behind them. She asked, "You can all see the greenhouse?"

Carrie looked at her in annoyance, "What do you mean, 'can we see the greenhouse', it's kind of hard to miss!"

"Yeah! What's in there? It looks like it would be chance to see something other than snow and slush," Harry said.

Amy shook her head incredulously and snorted, "Fine. Come on, then."

They took an unmarked path through the cluster of trees and underbrush that surrounded the greenhouse. As they got nearer, they saw more detail. The odd structure had eight sides, each about twenty feet long, each with a door centered, and each was a different color. As his puzzlement grew, Harry glanced questioningly at both Carrie and Hermione. However, from the looks they gave him, they clearly didn't know quite what to make of the oddities either.

Amy opened the nearest door and held it for them all to enter before her. As he stepped inside, Harry was hit by a wave of hot, dry air that filled the antechamber. Amy closed the door and started to take off her outer garments. First, her scarf and cap, then her coat, and hung them on hooks near the door. She put her hands on her hips and gave them a look.

"Well, come on, you lot. You certainly don't need to wear those coats, hats, and scarves in here!"

As he and the girls took off their winter gear, Harry looked at the room they found themselves in. The puzzle deepened. With an octagonal shape, the walls should have had to angle inward from the join with the next side, but the entry chamber was rectangular, which made no sense. Then there was the view. The innermost wall was all glass, and should have just about bisected the space within the greenhouse. Instead, they were overlooking a vast panorama of sand and rock, covered with sparse vegetation. Harry and the girls finished and hung up their coats before walking over to the glass wall.

After sharing looks of disbelief and shock with Carrie and Hermione, Harry demanded, "What is this place? It just can't be! This room looks like it is at least two hundred yards across. That's way too big for the building we saw!"

Amy replied serenely, "Well, this is going to take awhile. So let's all go inside and find a seat and I'll try to explain."

Hermione muttered darkly, "This better be good!"

Amy touched the glass panel in the center and it opened soundlessly. Once the three children were inside, she stepped in and touched the panel again and it closed, just as soundlessly. She rounded on the children and saw them all gaping at the view. From the inside, it looked as if they had all just been transported to a desert somewhere! The walls had disappeared! The ceiling looked like a cloudless, crystal clear sky, with the sun hot and bright, directly overhead. Not the overcast that they'd just come out of.

Harry could only manage, "Wow!"

Hermione spun on Amy, "Just what is going on! This is impossible!"

Carrie cocked her head, and squinted at what seemed to be a patch of Barrel Cactus a few feet away.

She asked, with a quiver in her voice, "Are those cactus' needles moving?"

Amy gave a big grin. Then she spoke over the clamor.

"Ok. Just a second! I can't answer every question at once. So, first of all, this place was created with magic. I know, I know: magic? You don't believe me, right? Well, let me give you a brief demonstration."

With that, Amy pulled a short stick out of her back pocket, muttered under her breath, and gave it a swish. A big overstuffed couch appeared instantly, right where her stick had pointed. While the three were still gaping in awe, she did it again, and an overstuffed armchair appeared, facing the couch.

She gave them an amused smile, pocketed her stick and sat down in the chair.

With a grin, she said, "Take a load off. This could take a while."

Harry was still staring at the couch in shock. He looked at Carrie and Hermione, shook his head to clear his thoughts, then grabbed both of their hands. He led them, unresisting, to the couch. Hermione reached out a trembling hand and touched the couch quickly, as if it might be hot. Unhurt, she laid her palm on the arm of the couch to feel the fabric.

Hermione spun on Amy, "It's real! How did you do that? You can't do that!"

Carrie rubbed her chin, her unconscious mannerism when deep in thought. Speculatively, she said, "Well, Holmes, when you have eliminated the possible, only the impossible remains."

Harry argued, "But, but she just violated conservation of energy! You just can't do that!"

"Sit. Down. Now," Amy said firmly, through her clenched teeth.

The three shared a fearful glance. The glance said an unspoken: 'It probably wouldn't be a good idea to upset the woman who just violated the laws of reality, now would it?' They all dropped to the couch and gave her their complete attention.

"Good. Now, first off, I'm a witch, as are you two, Carrie and Hermione. Harry, you're a wizard. As to how I know that? This greenhouse has charms that repel normal people, or, as we call them, muggles. Well, I already knew that Harry was a wizard. In fact, he's the most famous wizard his age in the world!"

Harry gaped in disbelief. He stammered, "H-how can I be a famous wizard? I-I didn't even know I was a wizard! I can't do anything like you just did, so that can't be right."

Amy giggled, and when she did, her rather impressive chest jiggled, which may have distracted Harry, but Hermione pressed her.

"Why didn't any of us know about magic? If we are, as you say, witches and wizards, why can't we do anything like what you just did? "

Amy sighed and gathered her composure visibly. "You haven't been trained up, yet. When you turn eleven, each of you will receive a letter of invitation to attend Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Didn't anything ever happen around you that you couldn't explain?"

Harry and Carrie shared a shocked glance, as Amy continued on.

" Since you two girls' parents are both muggles, that makes you muggleborn, and the letter would normally represent you and your respective families' introduction to the Wizarding World. Harry isn't muggleborn, but as he's lived with his muggle relations since his parents' deaths. That's why he knows nothing about his heritage either."

Carrie interjected, "Wait! What 'Wizarding World'? There are more of you? I mean, us?"

Amy giggled again, and Harry was distracted, again.

Finally, with a snort, she said, "What? You thought I made all of this? Come on! I'm not that much older than you! I just help out Professor Amblin around here."

Hermione focused in on a key word, and asked, "Normally?"

Harry blurted, "What heritage?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Will you let me finish? I promise to answer any remaining questions, but just let me cover the basics, first. Okay?"

At the three's reluctant nods. Amy squared her shoulders and began what was obviously a well thought out, if a bit unpracticed, introduction.

"The Wizarding World split off from muggle society in the early sixteen hundreds. They've been using their magic for centuries to cover up any interaction between them and muggles. Now, the International Convention of Wizardry enforces that secrecy globally under the Secrecy Act of 1636. Which basically says, 'No one may tell, or allow to find out about magic, a muggle not directly related to a witch or wizard.' So, although it is traditional not to inform muggleborns about magic until they get their Hogwart's letters, I won't get in trouble for violating the Secrecy Act with you two.

"Harry is an entirely different matter. The story begins long before he was born. In fact, it was before his parents had received their own Hogwart's letters. But before you can understand his story, I need to give you a bit of a synopsis about Wizarding Society.

"When the Wizard's broke off contact with the muggles, many of them, no doubt due to secretly using their magic, had risen into the muggle nobility. Thus, when they broke off, these same families became the nobility of the Wizarding World. Also, if you'll remember your history, the Magna Carta had already been signed; however, when they separated, the Nobility only applied it regularly to their dealings with other nobles. Only the King could enforce the terms on the Nobility. So, a key aspect of the formation of Wizarding Society is simply this, there is no king!"

"Add to that, the fact that witches and wizards live more than twice as long as their muggle counterparts, barring violent deaths, and you have a culture steeped in tradition. Thus, the Wizarding World has followed very few of the changes that have occurred in the muggle world. It is still a Feudal, Male-Dominated, slave holding society."

Hermione had listened to every word, but could no longer contain her outrage.

"What! That's preposterous! Why wouldn't the attitudes of the muggles still be introduced by the muggleborn witches and wizards, when they were brought into Hogwarts?"

Amy dropped her head, tears filling her eyes, and sniffed, "Because if they become too much of a problem, they are enslaved or killed. Like my parents."

Carrie darted to Amy's side and pulled her into a hug. She murmured, "That's awful! What happened to your parents?"

"T-They both were trying to modernize the Wizarding World's legal system. One of the so-called Ancient and Noble houses took exception and enslaved them both. M-my dad didn't last a year. He was killed for using his magic against his master. No doubt, because my mum was forced to be a sex slave for his friends, but then when she got pregnant, they turned her into a broodmare, and forced her to have children as fast as she could. B-but the babies of slaves are born slaves! I have four half-sisters who are slaves! Her fifth child born in slavery was a Squib, so they simply slaughtered both her and her baby boy, like animals!"

Hermione's hand was covering her mouth in shock. "Oh my God! Why would we want anything to do with such people?"

Carrie asked, "What's a Squib?"

With weary resignation, Amy answered, "Carrie, Squibs are children born to witches that have no magic at all. Hermione, it's because you have really have no choice. By chance, you have magic. Even if you didn't attend Hogwarts, they would find out about you. Then, they would probably wipe your parents memories of you, or arrange an 'accident' for them, and enslave you anyway. Without training, you would have no chance of defending yourself or your parents."

Carrie said bitterly, "Training didn't help your parents though, did it?"

"No," Amy choked out.

Then Amy broke down, weeping inconsolably.

Harry stood, and said resolutely, "Well, I won't stand for it! I won't let that happen to any of you!"

Hermione said, "What can you do, Harry? You're only nine years old! Besides, you don't know any more magic than I do!"

Hermione dragged herself over to sit on the other arm of Amy's chair. After a minute of both girls hugging her, Amy finally was able to slow her crying to sobs.

Harry stood before them, his fists clenched in rage, and muscles standing out with the strain.

"Amy," he demanded, "Look at me. There must have been a reason for you to take this risk. I mean, why did you break with 'tradition' and tell us about the Wizarding World, now? What would happen to you if anybody found out? And, you never told us about my 'heritage'. Does that have something to do with why you've told us all of this now?"

Amy wiped the tears from her eyes and took a halting breath. "Yes, Harry. Your heritage has everything to do with why I've told you about magic today. I didn't know these two would be witches, too. I was planning on getting them to the library and sneaking you off to show you this place, and have this talk with just you. You guys shot that plan out of the water! You're right, too. If anyone finds out what I'm doing, they would kill or enslave me."

Amy managed a choking chuckle. Then, she wiped the tears off her cheeks and went on. "Your parents were murdered by the Pure-Blood fanatic, Lord Voldemort. Harry, you are the last member of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter."

Before she could explain further, Harry broke in, "What! My Aunt and Uncle told me my dad was a drunk and killed both him and my mum in a drunken auto accident! That was where I got this scar!"

Amy froze for a second, then leapt to her feet and grabbed Harry by the shoulders. She stared intently into his eyes and said, "Harry, I can't believe they would say such things to you! Both of your parents were heroes and crusaders for muggleborn rights. They couldn't be as easily silenced either, since your father was the heir to an Ancient and Noble house! The reason you are famous, is that on the night Lord Voldemort killed your parents, he also tried to kill you. However, his killing curse failed to kill you, thus you are known in the Wizarding World as: the-boy-who-lived. Somehow that terrible, unstoppable curse that Lord Voldemort had used to kill your parents and innumerable others with, didn't kill you, a baby. It destroyed him, instead!"

"How is that even possible?" All of them demanded at once.

"No one knows. But after his downfall, the most powerful of his Deatheaters, his closest followers, those that were of Noble houses, simply used their political power or bought themselves out of Azkaban or the Dementor's kiss. So, Harry has a whole group of rich and powerful enemies, who would like nothing more than to kill the-boy-who-lived."

Seeing their puzzlement, and before they could ask, Amy rushed on.

"Azkaban is the Wizarding World's prison. It is guarded by Dementors: foul soul-sucking dark creatures that leech all happy thoughts from anyone nearby, and worse, makes them relive their worst memories. If that were all, Dementors would be terrible creatures, but their kiss, their kiss sucks out the very soul of a person!"

Hermione shrieked, "That's terrible! How can they even allow such foul creatures exist, let alone use them for punishment!"

Carrie looked at Harry and asked Amy, "Is there any way that Harry can help protect all of us?"

Amy winced, and gave Harry a pleading look.

"Only if he invokes the line continuation clauses of House Potter. That would make him the head of an Ancient and Noble house. As such, he can accept my oath and become my Liege Lord, and give me the protection of House Potter as a vassal. For you two, as muggleborns, it's not so easy. You can't become vassals. It just won't work. You don't have the standing for such a relationship to be recognized."

Harry growled, "I have to be able to protect them! There must be a way!"

Amy flushed a bright red, before she hesitantly offered.

"Well, you could enter into a betrothal."

"What!" All three of them yelled.

Carrie said, in total disbelief, "We're only ten and Harry's only nine!"

Hermione, tried to ignore her flush of excitement and joy. Not wanting to admit to those feelings, she argued logically, "He can't be betrothed to both of us!"

Amy frowned. She said, "Maybe not. Your ages don't matter though, since in the Wizarding World you could have been entered into a contract marriage before birth. Besides, that is not complete protection, as you would only be provisional members of House Potter. But the only other options are worse. You could become Harry's concubines or slaves."

Carrie snarled, "Contract marriages! How backward can you get? Does the Wizarding World follow all of the Victorian Age customs?"

Sadly, Amy nodded and said, "Pretty much. Slavery, harems, dueling, honor oaths; the whole nine yards."

Hermione looked at Harry, blushed and asked, "What exactly would slavery or concubine status mean?"

Harry sternly demanded an explanation, "I've heard the term concubine, and I certainly know what a slave is! But could you explain what exactly what they are in the Wizarding World? Also, what do I have to do to become 'Lord Potter'?"

Amy shook her head. "No, no. To clarify, you won't be able to become Lord Potter until you are eleven. You can only become Head of House until then. It's not the same. As Head of an Ancient and Noble house, you may act on behalf of the house. It is not until you become Lord Potter that you would be able to act upon your own behalf, and take up your seat on the Wizengamot. Still, to become the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, you simply have to present yourself to Gringott's for verification of your bloodline.

"As Head of an Ancient and Noble House, under the terms of its Line Continuation Clauses, you may be able to take more than one wife, you will certainly be allowed one or more concubines. We won't know until your family vaults are opened by the goblins, and all of the line continuation clauses are examined.

"Any Noble House may take slaves, but given your distaste at the concept, we may want to reserve that option for emergencies. Still, I would expect being your slave, Harry, would be better treatment than most witches, even the noble born, could expect from any of the pure blood nobles even as a wife."

Hermione and Carrie looked at each other, and saw matching disgust and shock at the revelations about Wizarding society. Harry hung his head in his hands and groaned.

Despairingly, Harry moaned, "Your parents are going to kill me! I just met you yesterday, Hermione! And now, I have to explain to your parents that you're a witch and I'm a wizard? And worse! Why it might just be best we become betrothed at age ten? And you, Carrie! Your parents know about my powers, but this on top of that? I'll be lucky if they don't tell me never darken their door again! Finally, what about the rest of your families? If they aren't protected, too, wouldn't someone be able to use that against us?"

Harry seemed to be working himself into a frenzy. So, first Hermione, then Carrie put their arms around him and gave him a hug.

Amy haltingly asked, "What powers? You shouldn't be able to do more than accidental magic when you get extremely angry, frustrated or scared."

Now absolutely disgusted with himself, Harry muttered, "Just great! I'm not just some bloody Lord… but the bloody-boy-who-lived… and a bloody freak, even among Wizards!"

Hermione, not in on the secret of Harry's Spiderman powers yet, gave Carrie a puzzled look. Carrie caught Hermione's look, and the frank one Amy was sending her way, then seeing that Harry wanted to wallow in self-pity for a bit longer, began to explain.

"Well, the first time I met Harry, he had just smashed himself into a tree and knocked himself unconscious."

Hermione couldn't resist, she tittered, "Harry 'Grace' Potter, then?"

Both Harry and Carrie gave Hermione a severe look. Carrie stepped back and put both hands on her hips.

She visibly controlled her pique, then said, "Well, it would be one thing if he had just been walking through the woods and knocked himself out. But, as I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted; was that he actually hit the tree about thirty feet up the trunk, knocked himself unconscious before he fell to the ground."

Both Amy and Hermione gasped.

Hermione blurted her questions, "How on earth did he survive that? And how did he manage to hit the tree trunk so high off the ground, and hard enough to knock himself out?"

Harry shook his head in resignation as he sighed and said, "Like this!"

Harry leapt straight upwards in a tremendous bound. Well short of the ceiling, he was still thirty feet above them. He shot a web out of his right hand in front of him at a forty-five degree angle. When it caught the ceiling, he pulled it taut and swung through a long arc and released it while still moving upward and outward. Just as he started downward again, he shot another web outwards.

He circled the room once, picking up speed until he was going at least one hundred kilometers per hour. Then, he headed for a corner. He made sure that when he released his last web, he would be falling toward the intersection of the two walls and the floor.

Just as impact seemed imminent, he shot webs from both hands to create trampoline. He hit the trampoline, which stretched almost all the way into the corner before rocketing him back towards where the girls still waited.

He fell short of them, but landed on his hands. He did a handspring into a triple layout flip, and landed next to them without having broken a sweat, or even breathing hard.

Carrie gave him a wide grin for his showmanship. Hermione and Amy stood there shocked into silence, with their eyes wide and mouths open.

Harry took pity on Hermione. He walked over and used one finger to close her mouth, then pulled her into a hug.

Amy finally broke out of her shock. She rounded on Harry and in exasperation started demanding answers.

"What the hell was that? How can you do that? I mean, you have to have at least the strength of a vampire or a transformed werewolf! And what was that you were swinging from? Could you do one right here? I'd like to take a look."

Harry shrugged, and said, "When I was about five, just starting school, I suddenly found I had the powers of Spiderman."

Hermione's jaw dropped open again.

Harry turned and spun a wide web, from floor to ceiling, right next to the couch that Amy had created when they arrived. Amy took out her stick and started waving it at the web and speaking in Latin. After a moment, she looked surprised, and pointed the wand at the web and cast 'Finité'. The web instantly disappeared.

She said, "Very interesting Harry! Those webs of yours are Acromantula Silk. However, they appear to be a wandless conjuration, which is a very rare skill. Let me try something. This won't hurt a bit."

Amy pointed her wand at Harry, and said "_Finité_. Now, can you still perform your feats of daring do?"

Harry felt an odd icy tingle pass over him when her spell hit. He did a forward leap, with a full layout flip and landed thirty feet away.

Hermione's brain finally engaged the puzzle. She spoke, growing more and more excited.

"So, these things Harry can do are because of his magic? Can anyone do things like that?"

Amy shook her head in negation. Slowly, and carefully choosing every word, she answered.

"No. Nobody can do the things Harry just did. He has no training in magic. I doubt that most fifth year students could conjure a single one of those webs, even using a wand! For him to do so flawlessly, effortlessly, and repeatedly without using a wand, like we just saw? I doubt anyone else in the world could do that. And when I tried to cancel any spells he might have cast upon himself… not that I know of any spell that could boost strength and agility like that… he was still able to perform the same feats."

Carrie demanded, "Well, what does that mean?"

Amy said, "The only thing I can think of, is that his magic has made permanent changes to his physiology, so that there was no active spell for me to dispel. But that shouldn't be possible, either."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, her eyes darted, first to the webs still hanging down from the ceiling, then to Harry, as he comically hopped back over to them in a series of preposterous one-handed handsprings.

When Harry stopped and looked at them with an insouciant grin, Hermione threw her arms around his neck. She planted a lingering kiss on his lips. Harry blushed and didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. As the kiss went on, he pulled Hermione into a firm hug. Hermione pushed him away with a laugh, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

She said, "There! That ought to hold him for a while."

Carrie stepped up and gave him a kiss, too. When she stepped away, she laughingly said, "I think we broke him! What I'm not sure of is why? Why did you want him stunned into immobility, Hermione?"

Hermione gave a tinkling laugh. "Because I don't want him bouncing all over the room for a minute! Amy, if no one else can do anything like what Harry can, won't his powers be a pretty extreme surprise for any of his enemies? What if we could learn to do something like that?"

Surprise, and then an appraising look flashed over Amy's face. She nodded slowly, as she thought through Hermione's points one by one.

Carrie broke up the mutual admiration society when she said, "I've known about his powers for years. We talked about everything unusual that happened to him just before they manifested. The only commonality at all that we could find, was that he was sure that he was about to die if he didn't have those powers! Well, that, and he had those particular powers firmly fixed in his mind at the time."

Harry broke in excitedly, "Maybe I should try to keep my identity secret, like Spiderman, too! I mean, if everyone finds out what I can do, it won't be a surprise anymore."

"Unfortunately, that would remove any deterrent value as well. I guess we just have to play it by ear. I mean, we aren't going to go out of our way to shout it in the middle of Diagon Alley, but are you going to risk someone getting hurt or killed to hide your secret Harry?"

Amy tried to act as the mature voice of reason, a role she was uncomfortable with, and ill suited for.

Carrie turned on Amy in a flash. "Does my mom know you're a witch?"

When Amy shook her head, Carrie pressed on, "It's really simple then. You simply have to come to our New Year's Eve Party. Both Hermione and my parents will be there. You can help us explain all of this. Maybe they'll see an angle we've missed. But even if not, there's simply no way our parents are going to allow us to go off to this 'Diagon Alley' with you, unaccompanied."

Hermione added, "I agree! We need a plan. We can't just sneak off into what is practically another world. If we got into trouble there, how would our parents ever even find out what happened to us, if we hadn't first told them about all of this? Besides, didn't you promise us a tour of this place?"

Harry pointed at the strange cactus with the moving needles.

"Yeah! What the heck is that thing? And should I feel a bit worried that it seems to keep most of its needles pointing my way?"

Bowing to the inevitable, Amy said, "Okay, okay! I'll go to the party and help explain all this to your parents! But now, let's finish the tour, since there are tons of interesting magical plants in here."

Amy stood and motioned for the three to follow her. She took them over near the cactus and pointed out how to identify a 'Barrel Rolling Cactus'.

"This type of magical cactus always keeps half of its needles moving to face what it perceives as the greatest threat. Since you were hopping about crazily, that's you, to the cactus, Harry. However, the real danger is encountered when they feel attacked, because then they will use their needles to start rolling. And let me tell you, getting steamrollered by a cactus is unpleasant, indeed!"

_**Proofread by SneakySis**_

_**Final Edit By TeNderLoin**_


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman

**Chapter 5**

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

Hermione woke slowly. Her eyes blinked at the bright sunlight streaming through the window. It was already late morning. As she remembered the previous night, she simply groaned and ducked back under the covers, to snuggle with the warm body next to hers. She'd never slept with anyone. Well, not since her parents had banished her from their bed for the last time at the age of six. Carrie wiggled closer, and Hermione felt her thigh partially resting on her own. This was… she struggled a bit to sort out the sensations, and then decided. This was surprisingly intimate. She liked it. She liked it a lot.

Sure there was the physical comfort. Better yet, though, was the trust, the intimacy, and the complete acceptance. She'd never gotten that from someone her own age. Now, she recalled, she was surrounded by it. She, Harry, Carrie, Lana, and Lisa had played games after dinner. That had been fun, but the best part of the night had come after they'd all been sent to bed. She and Carrie had sat up late into the night, talking about everything and anything.

Hermione blushed remembering her initial resistance to changing her clothing in front of Carrie. Somehow, Carrie had made that challenge seem ludicrous, and they'd both ended up in just their knickers, comparing their bodies. Carrie's grumping about being a late bloomer, and fascination with Hermione's tiny mounds and puffy nipples had gone a long way to reducing her embarrassment.

The questions about sensitivity and training bras had helped, since they made her feel more mature and in charge of a situation that otherwise might have driven her into shocked silence due to the daunting implications. Tickles and giggles, confidences and plots, hugs and smooth, soft skin sliding on smooth soft skin all had helped break down Hermione's barriers. She'd never imagined getting so close to someone, let alone so quickly. She leaned in and kissed Carrie on her cheek and closed her eyes, content.

Next thing she knew, Hermione was startled awake by the bed bouncing wildly. She struggled to remember where she was until she whirled to find herself still tangled with Carrie's legs. Her little sisters were bouncing on the end of her bed. Disgruntled by being awakened so rudely, Hermione flopped back onto the pillow and threw her arms over her head. What a mistake that was! Lana and Lisa took that as an invitation to attack her ribs.

Hermione had twisted out of the bed. She had landed on her bum when, attracted by the noise, Harry stuck his head into the room. He peeked around a barely opened door. He saw the wriggling mass of girls, and crept in for his own sneak attack. Hermione was curled into a ball, giggling wildly, trying to protect her feet and legs from Lisa, and her neck and ribs from both Carrie and Lana. Harry pounced on Carrie, bowling her over and began tickling her ribs. She shrieked and wriggled like a hooked fish. Her sisters, seeing her plight, sprang to her defense.

Harry was bowled over himself. With a small dark haired girl stuck like a limpet to each side, he was having a hard enough time breathing, that he had no chance to even think of escaping. Hermione found herself panting, and lying on the floor next to the action. She threw a glance over to where Carrie lay on the other side of the melee, and saw her mischievous grin. Carrie made a tickling gesture with her hand towards Lana's foot and pointed with her chin towards Lisa's feet. As soon as Hermione had her hand inches from the sole of Lisa's foot, Carrie swiped her fingers from Lana's heel towards her toes. The effect was instantaneous and extreme. Lana yanked her foot away from the fingers so hard she over balanced and slammed over Harry's upper body.

Harry oofed, and Hermione copied Carrie's finger swipe attack on Lisa's bare foot. Lisa sprang forward with a yowl, like a cat from ambush, right over Lana and Harry's heads. Harry finally had a chance to take stock, and quickly realized he was in an untenable tactical situation. So, he rolled away from Carrie, out from under Lana, and right over the top of Hermione. Instinctively, Hermione grabbed him around the waist with both hands as he was passing over her. They skidded to a stop against a beanbag chair. Both of their faces were flushed and eyes only inches from each other.

Hermione felt a surge of affection for this wild haired boy, and the three sisters. She was still breathing hard and trying to control her laughter. Then, she saw Harry's eyes flick downward, and she felt his body stiffen under her. Suddenly, Hermione remembered that Carrie had talked her into wearing a huge oversized T-shirt without a bra the previous night.

Harry's eyes were open wide, and still looking down. Hermione was suddenly mortified when she realized that she had landed astride Harry's hips, and she was only wearing thin cotton knickers, and Harry only had thin pajama bottoms. Harry seemed frozen, so at least it wasn't getting any worse. The two younger sisters had turned on Carrie, so Hermione took a deep breath to muster her courage, and looked down to see the view that had frozen Harry.

Hermione looked down, and saw that the neck of the oversized T-shirt she was wearing was drooping, giving him a clear view of her little cones, with their puffy pink nipples, and all the way down her body to her knickers. She blushed and dropped onto Harry to hide the view. But now, face flushed when she looked up to meet Harry's eyes, she realized she was pressing her body into his from the hips up. Harry gave her a disarming smile, but as he moved to put his arms around her reassuringly, the movement shifted their hips and suddenly Hermione felt a firm, warm, something pressing against her wide spread bits.

She gave a squeak of horror and tried to jump away, but Harry was too quick, and too strong. He held her right there, but when he saw her face start to crumple he pulled her closer and kissed her neck.

Harry shushed her then whispered in her ear, "Hermione, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I shouldn't have looked, but, at first, I was surprised. Then, I couldn't believe how pretty you are, and how pretty your bobbles are."

Hermione snapped her head and caught his naughty grin. Her outrage burned through the mortification, perhaps just as he had intended, and she abruptly slapped both hands into his chest and pushed herself upright. That was, in retrospect, a mistake. Suddenly, she felt tingles shooting through her bits, as her shift in weight pressed her button into Harry's hard shaft through the two thin layers of clothing.

Harry's mouth opened 'O' of surprise, just as Hermione's did the same. Before either had time to catalogue all of the powerful new sensations, Carrie and her sisters jumped on them. Several minutes later, when Mrs. Bowman called them down for breakfast, they all thundered down the stairs, faces flushed, with peals of laughter.

Mrs. Bowman smiled at them all and served up bangers, fried tomatoes, toast and scrambled eggs, with a choice of tomato juice or milk. Harry caught Hermione casting shy glances his way all through breakfast. Every time he caught her eyes, she blushed and looked back down at her plate, as if her bangers and eggs were the most interesting thing in the world.

The rest of the day was a wonderful mix of playing in the snow, board and card games, and Mrs. Bowman's wonderful cooking. For Hermione, the only down side was, that all day long, whenever she looked at Harry, she felt an echo of the tingle in her bits, and a warmth in her belly. So, all day long, whenever by chance she met Harry's eyes, or he touched her, she blushed. She didn't know how to deal with these new feelings. She didn't know exactly why she was having them, but she knew she was embarrassed, yet wanted it to happen again.

Harry on the other hand was getting worried and a bit alarmed. Had he ruined it? Hermione was barely able to say a word to him all day, even though she chatted merrily with the girls. What had he done wrong? Things had started off so swimmingly. He resolved to pull her aside for a talk.

Thus, after a rousing game of Clue, in which Lisa was able to declare that Colonel Mustard did it with the rope in the Conservatory, Harry took Hermione's hand in his. She blushed, but only met his eyes for a second before meekly following him into the den.

Harry saw Hermione looking anywhere but at him, and he felt as if something were tearing at his chest. His eyes glistened as he choked out, "Hermione, I said I was sorry! Why won't you even look at me? Did what I saw or said make you feel so embarrassed and awkward that you hate me now? I thought we were friends."

Hermione heard the desperation in Harry's voice. When she looked at him, she saw his eyes glistening, full of unshed tears and saw the anguish in his face.

She put her hands on her hips and said, "Honestly Harry! I am your friend. It's just that I'm not completely comfortable with myself now that my body's started changing. Now, you've seen me, I'm sure you think I'm making a mountain out of tiny little molehills, don't you?"

Now, Harry saw the tears fall from Hermione's eyes. He stepped close, and pulled her into a hug.

Harry murmured, "They may be small now, but they're still yours, and they're still beautiful. Now, I told you I was sorry. It wasn't because I didn't want to see them, but because they're as beautiful as the rest of you! I said I was sorry, because I didn't ask and so I felt that I stole that look. Anytime you will let me, I'll look at them some more, and give you my frank and considered opinion."

Hermione snorted a laugh and slapped Harry on his butt cheek.

"Prat! I'm not used to these new changes and feelings in my body."

When she didn't say anything more, Harry pressed on. "As far as my prong getting stiff… I'm a bloke. You can't expect me to see two wonderful bobbles like that and not react! Especially with you giving it a go, riding on it!"

Hermione tried to hide her face in Harry's neck. He was having none of that. He caught her chin and turned her to face him, still held close in a hug. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips as he caught her eyes with his. His traitorous cock was threatening to ruin everything! So, he tried to tilt his hips back, to keep from eagerness to join in the conversation with pretty, embarrassed, shy girl in his arms, pressed up against him. Hermione didn't let him get away with it though, she had her arms wrapped around the small of his back and kept in firm contact, with something firm.

Hermione gave him an insouciant smile. "What's your excuse now?"

Harry gulped. Then he groaned, "I guess remembering that view. That, and having you pressed up against it again."

The tingle was back. Hermione felt warmth in her belly, but wrapped in Harry's arms, it didn't seem so frightening. She could feel Harry's hard penis pressing into her, just above her mons. Even the small movements of each of them breathing intensified the feelings. Her mortification returned, as her body betrayed her and led her towards new and unknown realms of sensuality. Hermione leaned in and gave Harry a light, lingering kiss on the lips. He groaned as she took her arms from around him and instead pushed off his chest.

"Harry, you know this is all Amy's fault, don't you? I mean, all that talk about Carrie and I getting married to you, or becoming your concubines or slaves, must have planted a seed."

She playfully licked her lips.

Harry groaned again. With all of his blood still south of his naval, he couldn't form an articulate response.

Finally, he managed a weak rejoinder, "I suppose with all of that reading, there had to be some bodice-rippers."

Hermione boxed his ear playfully.

"Prat! Just for that, don't count on seeing my breasts again for a long, long time."

Harry made puppy-dog eyes at her, and laughing, said, "So you mean I can see them again, eventually? Please, please, please?"

Hermione slapped him playfully and spun out of his grip. Then, still laughing, they returned. The group was spread out watching the opening credits to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Harry and Hermione ended up squeezed on the couch between Harry on the left, and Lisa, on Hermione's right. Throughout the movie, both were all too aware of their contact, from knee to shoulder.

After the movie ended, they all headed up to bed. Hermione was dreading the moment that Carrie closed the door and it would be just the two of them. She knew that Carrie was too perceptive to not have noticed the tension between her and Harry for most of the day, since she had no idea how to explain.

Sure enough, as soon as the door closed, Carrie whirled on her and demanded, "Spill, girl!"

Hermione, even though she had been expecting it, stammered out a lame attempt at innocence, "What?"

Carrie's eyes narrowed, "Don't try that with me! I saw how you acted around Harry all day. Then, you two go off to the den alone to 'talk'. What happened?"

Hermione was somewhat fearful about Carrie's reaction, but it was obvious she wasn't going to accept anything short of full disclosure. Hermione sighed. Then she faced her new friend.

"It started out as an accident this morning. During the tickle fight, I ended up on top of Harry and my shirt fell open. He saw my bobbles!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! He suddenly froze and I looked at him. Then I followed his eyes, and saw all the way down to my knickers!"

Carrie sat back, eyes flashing. "So, are you mad at him?"

Hermione tucked her chin and shook her head. "No. I'm more embarrassed."

"Why? I bet he enjoyed the view!" Carrie said with a teasing lilt.

Hermione slapped Carrie's thigh.

"I think he did. His bits got all stiff and I was sitting right on it! It ended up nestled right up against my bits!"

Carrie's eyes got big, and her mouth dropped open for several seconds.

Then, she squealed, "Oh my God! No wonder you were all blushes all day! Does he know? How did it feel?"

When Carrie just kept shooting questions at her, without giving her a chance to answer; Hermione got annoyed. She reached out and clamped one hand over Carrie's mouth.

"You'll never know, unless you give me a chance to answer! Sheesh! How could he not know? I ended up rubbing my bits on his. It gave me warm tingles. I just don't know what to do about it. On one hand, I want to feel that way again, soon. On the other hand, I feel betrayed by my own body. Right now, with my breasts just coming as puberty kicks in, sometimes I just feel like a little bundle of out of control hormones. This is so embarrassing, I just don't know what to do."

Carrie's eyes somehow managed to get bigger.

She squealed, "Well, you rub one off, of course! While telling me every little detail!"

Carrie started to strip quickly. Her lithe body was still boyish, but sleek and toned. When she was down to just her pink frilled knickers, she shot Hermione a challenging look.

"Well? Are you going to get ready for bed?"

Hermione was still sitting, frozen in shock, gaping at her. Carrie pulled Hermione's feet around so they hung off the bed and pulled off her socks. Then, she pulled her off the bed and motioned for her to finish getting undressed. Hermione was still taken aback by Carrie's last suggestion. Rub one off indeed! She flushed brightly, but slowly began to remove her clothing. She peeled off her pullover then reached for the elastic bottom of her training bra. Catching Carrie staring at her about to be revealed chest, Hermione paused, suddenly overcome by a wave of self-conscious shame.

She tried to reason with herself. _Harry saw them earlier today, and Carrie saw them last night. Talk about making a mountain out of two little molehills! Really, am I more ashamed of letting Carrie see them again, or my reaction to her suggestion to rub one off?_

Letting out the breath that she hadn't realized she was holding, Hermione swept the training bra over her head, and stood straight and proud in just her knickers. She put both hands on her hips and cocked her head at Carrie.

Hermione challenged, "Well? Do they meet with your approval?"

Carrie pursed her lips mischievously. "Well, the only problem I see, really, is that they're yours, not mine. You really are gorgeous and you're getting to be sexy already. I'm a bit jealous since my mom said she didn't really start developing until she was almost thirteen. So, I might have to wait years before my breasts start to grow."

Hermione flushed all the way down to her belly. Her small breasts seemed to warm, and Carrie's intent eyes almost seemed to leave a trail of tingles as she stepped closer and gave the tiny pink nipples, puffy areola and small cones a minute inspection. Hermione's mouth and lips suddenly felt dry, so she licked her lips and swallowed convulsively.

Carrie stepped close, looked her in the eyes, pulled her into a hug, and she felt her bare nipples press into warm flesh for the first time. Hermione gasped and stiffened as the new sensations almost overwhelmed her. Then, seeing Carrie was uncertain and worried about her reaction, she put her arms around the younger girl and hugged her back. They stood there hugging each other in just their knickers, pressed together from knees to breast.

Hermione reveled in the smooth, silky texture of Carrie's skin pressing against her and under her hands. She'd never shared a moment this intimate with anyone. Even with Harry, earlier in the day, the contact had been brief and unintended, and the result for both of them had been dominated by embarrassment. Here, in the privacy of Carrie's room, her wonderful new friend had initiated this closeness, this moment of intimate and sensual togetherness. Wonderful warmth spread from every point of contact, belly, thighs, breast, arms and back. Since Carrie was an inch shorter, her mons pressed against Hermione's from below, and like with Harry earlier, she felt a tingle growing.

Carrie had rested her chin on Hermione's shoulder. She waited for her friend to relax into her embrace, then turned her head and kissed her neck, just below her ear. Hermione trembled at the kiss, and moved her hands almost involuntarily up Carrie's back. Carrie pulled back and looked into Hermione's eyes. She grabbed Hermione's arms and pulled away to hold both of her hands.

With a gay laugh, Carrie said, "Now, come on, tell me everything! Tell me what and how it happened."

"You remember the tickle fight? When your sisters went after you, Harry tried to roll away to escape right over the top of me. I just latched onto him in reaction, and he ended up pulling me over with him. I ended up on top, straddling his hips."

Eyes wide with excitement, Carrie exclaimed, "Wow! You little minx! What happened next?"

Hermione flushed all the way down to her breasts as she replied, "I looked down into his eyes, and saw him looking down, fixated. My gaze followed his and I could see down the neck of that T-shirt you loaned me and I could see my bobbles, tummy and knickers!"

Carrie's gaze seemed to lose focus and her lips parted. Hermione gave a little grin and continued, "I freaked out! All I could think of was to hide from his view, so I dropped right down on him. That didn't work out so well, now I was pressing my nipples into him. He said something that embarrassed me, so I pushed off. Much to my surprise, doing that nudged his bits harder against mine."

Breathlessly, Carrie asked, "So, how big were Harry's bits? This big?"

Hermione blinked at Carrie's two fingers held together. Then, she blushed and answered, "Bigger. Add a finger."

Carrie giggled, "Oh wow! Lucky girl!" She looked down toward where Hermione sat next to her, taking in the movement of her small breasts. "Lucky boy, too! I bet he loved the view."

Just like before, Hermione tucked her head, only to see the same view that Carrie had, her small breasts, capped by the puffy areola and tiny nipples, on down to her belly and her knickers. The warm tingles were back. Hermione gulped. She brought her eyes back up toward Carries, taking in the other girl's trim, taunt muscled belly, small dark pink nipples inches from her own, and finally met her hazel eyes.

Carrie said, "I'm thinking about what Amy said. You know, about us becoming Harry's slaves, concubines or wives? It got me pretty excited, even before you started talking about your and Harry's bits. I think we both definitely need to rub one off now!"

Hermione flopped back onto the bed and looked away. In a small voice, she said, "I don't know how to rub one off. I always have been too embarrassed by my body's reactions."

Incredulous, Carrie asked, "Never? You've never rubbed one off before? But, but, didn't one of your friends or an older female relative tell or show you?"

Hermione rolled to face away, tears filling her eyes.

She sniffled, "I didn't have any friends, and I'm the oldest of all my cousins that doesn't have children, so no one was close enough to my age to tell me."

Carrie looked at Hermione's bare back as she was wracked with sobs. Reaching down, she grabbed the coverlet pulled it up over them and snuggled into her friend's back. Wrapping her arms around Hermione, Carrie talked soothingly until the shuddering sobs stopped.

Some time later, they both fell asleep, still spooned together.

_**Edited By TeNderLoin**_


	6. Chapter 6

Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman

**Chapter 6**

Tales and Puppies

As usual, Hermione was the first to awaken. She moaned softly and stretched as her eyes fluttered open. The arm wrapped around her waist fell off of her, and a grumpy groan reminded her that Carrie's little sisters had joined them, the previous night. Hermione snuggled into Carrie's back and spooned tight. Hermione put her arm around Carrie and her hand came to rest on her bare belly, where the girl's oversized sleep shirt had ridden up.

The faint scent of Carrie's floral shampoo drew Hermione in. She nuzzled the back of Carrie's neck through her tangled mass of bed-head curls. Lana, or was it Lisa, chose that moment to seek out warmth and spooned up tight to her back. Trapped, and unable to move; Hermione lay there, thinking about the last few days. She had never had so much fun! She had never laughed and giggled so much in her life! In fact, her face was a bit achy from the overused smile muscles!

Despite the slight twinge of pain from her overused smiling muscles, she smiled broadly, and inhaled deeply. She sighed a huge sigh of complete contentment. The Bowman sisters had taken her in as an unofficial fourth sister. And Harry… Well, Harry was just adored by them all.

His quick wit, sharp mind, deep green eyes and steady smile had them all thinking unbrotherly thoughts. Especially since tonight, at the New Year's Eve Party, Amy was going to tell their parents everything. Hermione let her mind drift. Vague visions of her and the Bowman sisters surrounding Harry in harem costumes (think: I Dream Of Jeanie) flitted through her mind. Her thoughts were so outrageous that she had to snort in amusement. The snort woke Carrie.

Hermione felt a bit guilty until Carrie suddenly leapt to her feet, shouting, "Happy New Year's Eve Day!"

Lana and Lisa started awake, and sat up. They were unimpressed by Carrie's salutation. They both threw their pillows at her, and grumbled.

Carrie dodged the pillows, and threw open the door. As she darted into the hall, she shouted out, in a singsong voice.

"Come on! We have a party to get ready for! Last one in the shower is a rotten egg!"

The ride over to the Granger's house would normally be less than forty-five minutes, but with all of the holiday revelers out and about, it took closer to an hour and a half. Lana and Carrie had maneuvered Harry into the middle of the second row bench seat and monopolized the conversation with him. Hermione didn't mind, she wanted to connect to all three of her new almost-sisters. Besides, little Lisa was an interesting puzzle in her own right.

Hermione looked at the cute little girl and wondered aloud, "How did you ever get so far ahead in your studies? You must be ahead of where both Harry and I were, at the same age?"

Lisa gave a little shrug. She answered in a matter of fact tone, "When they started their lessons, I just thought it looked fun, and wanted to be a part of it. Then, a bit of competition awoke in all of us, and the race was on."

Hermione bit the corner of her lower lip, then asked, "But, if you are almost at their level, and yet the youngest, wouldn't that make you the most brilliant of them all?"

Lisa giggled, and leaned close. Conspiratorially she whispered, "Sure does! Just don't tell them. I would hate to shatter their illusions of grandeur at such a young age."

Hermione gaped at Lisa for a moment. Then she guffawed at her friend's sheer, unmitigated audacity.

They pulled into the Granger residence, resplendently festooned with holiday ornamentation and lights. The front door opened as soon as the Suburban came to a stop in the driveway. Hermione grimaced at her own impatience. Having been the first in, she would be the last out, poor planning in retrospect, as she couldn't wait to see her parents. Finally, she got to the door and looked out to see her parents' anxious faces. A flash of guilt went through her. She realized that as much fun as she'd been having, she dreadfully missed her parents, as this had been their first prolonged separation in her entire life. She leapt to the ground to greet them, landed on the icy surface, and her feet shot over her head and she fell backwards towards the frozen concrete.

She had just enough time for her eyes to widen, and to think, "this is going to hurt", when strong arms caught her behind the knees and under her back. She blinked in surprise into Harry's green eyes. Harry had been forced to crouch, to get low enough to catch her, now he lifted her upright, seemingly without effort. Feet firmly on the ground once more, Hermione threw her arms around Harry's neck and hugged him to her.

She murmured into his ear, "My hero. Thank you."

Harry gave her a squeeze, but looking over her shoulder, he saw Hermione's parents looking at them with a wild look in their eyes. Mr. Granger's mouth kept moving, but no words came out, as if he were doing the voice over to his own sound track. Mrs. Granger just stood there with wide eyes staring at him.

Harry said, "Um, sorry about startling you, but I didn't want Hermione to get hurt before the party."

Finally, Mr. Granger managed to form actual words. "How did you move so fast? You were on the far side of the Suburban, and… You. Leapt. Over. The. Bloody. Thing!"

Mrs. Granger mused aloud, "Yes, what you just did is quite impossible. You didn't start moving until after Hermione started falling. Yet you managed to not only leap over the top of the great honking truck, but get down from above it before she had fallen a foot!"

Harry looked to Hermione, met her gaze, gave her a cheeky grin, and said, "No laws of physics were violated in the performance of said rescue of this fair damsel."

Hermione burst out laughing and moved to her befuddle parents, drawing them into a hug.

"Come on. Let's get inside. It's too cold out here for long explanations." Looking over her shoulder at Harry, she gave him a brilliant smile and said, "Harry, now be a good lad, and bring in our bags, please?"

Harry raised his voice at her back and said, "How the mighty have fallen! One moment a hero, the next a stevedore!"

As Harry pulled open the twin rear doors of the Suburban, he saw a mountain of suitcases. Muttering imprecations about girls in general and his friends in particular, he started grabbing suitcases. Two he stuffed under each arm, he managed two more in his left hand, and, finally, grabbed the last oversized case in his right. He shouldered the doors closed and trudged up to the house, looking like a moving mountain of luggage. Getting to the door and finding it closed, Harry, rather than dropping all of the luggage, just to have to load it back up again, used the simple expedient of kicking at the door until someone opened it.

Mrs. Granger opened the door and seeing an animated pile of luggage with a small boy's face in the middle, stepped back. She muttered, "Oh my, you poor dear. You didn't have to carry it all in one go you know."

Harry flashed her a cheeky grin.

"I didn't want to delay the inquisition, do you have any idea how much I fear dentists? Now, where do you want these cases?"

Hands on her hips, Mrs. Granger answered with a perfunctory, "Just set them at the base of the stairs for now, Harry. Then get your skinny butt in here and face the music!"

Harry set down all the suitcases at the base of the stairs. Then, he followed Mrs. Granger through a hallway and entered a large, cozy den. A fire danced in the stone fireplace, the Christmas tree still spread holiday cheer from one corner, and the room's two huge, comfy, couches faced each other over an oversized coffee table. Mr. and Mrs. Granger sat on one, while the Bowmans sat on the other. As Harry moved to join them, the girls gathered round and joined their parents on the couches, and Mr. Granger motioned Harry toward a chair at the end of the coffee table, between the couches.

Harry took in everyone's expression, Hermione's smirk, the elder Bowmans' knowing half smiles, the sister's eye rolls and giggles, and, finally, Mr. and Mrs. Grangers' strange combination of puzzlement and irritation. Hermione caught his eyes and glanced at the ceiling, ten feet overhead. Harry palmed his face and hung his head.

Mrs. Granger said, "So, Harry. Tell us how you went from one side of our SUV, over the top and back down in time to catch Hermione before she hit the ground."

Mr. Granger added, with a grin, "Without violating any natural laws."

Harry said, "Like this." He jumped straight upwards, almost to the ceiling, came down on one hand, and used one hand to sprang back up to hang on the ceiling with one foot. Harry, with a dramatic flourish, did a strange looking inverted bow.

Hermione giggled at her parents' wordless protestations and agog expressions. She explained, "I just found out about Harry's powers the day we went to Oxford. He can apparently do anything Spiderman can."

"Well, maybe not everything, Hermione. I am still just a boy, so I doubt I could pick up a car and throw it," Harry added.

Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Granger found their voices. Mr. Granger asked, "Is this why you wanted to invite Amy today, to try and explain all of this to us? But, I still don't see how you made it over the car so fast, even with Spiderman's powers."

Harry dropped to the floor, and then took a seat. "I jumped up with enough force to triple my speed. But that gave me too much momentum and I would have shot thirty feet over the car, so I reached down for the roof of the Suburban to arrest my upward velocity. In fact, I basically used my hands to drive myself down from that point much faster than Hermione was falling, otherwise I couldn't have gotten there in time."

Mrs. Granger had a calculating look as she asked, "So Harry, how did you get these powers? I doubt you've been exposed to many radioactive, experimental spiders."

Hermione glanced at the clock on the mantle over the fireplace. She answered, "Now that is why we invited Amy!"

Mrs. Granger did a double take at her daughter, and started to frown, but her husband blurted out, "Amy? How can Amy explain this? You just met her a few days ago!"

Harry heaved a sigh. "Honestly sir? I've had these powers for years, and the Bowmans have all known about them for years, but Amy saw my powers and was able to explain them, at least in general terms, within minutes. So, if we could hold off on this discussion for a few minutes until she arrives, I would appreciate it."

Mrs. Granger asked, "So, you got the super strength, agility and speed, but how about the danger sense and webbing?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and began to answer, "Mrs. Granger."

"Ellen," she said, interrupting him.

"Ellen then. I can shoot webs", Harry smiled. That said, he pointed one hand toward the corner with the Christmas Tree and shot a wide web that attached in a triangle, just in front of the tree.

"I'm not sure that I have a danger sense per se. In the comics, Spiderman's danger sense was made out to be an almost infallible, short-term, precognitive ability. In my case, under duress, I can slow down my perception of time to the point of having time to recognize the situation, plan a response, and take action on something that takes place in under a half second. Like Hermione slipping as she got out of the car. So for me, it's more like I react to subliminal stimuli, and go into my slowed time state without conscious thought."

"Hmmm," Mr. Granger murmured. "That might be the difference between surviving a sniper attack and not. If a sniper fired at you from behind, the bullet would reach you before the sound, and there wouldn't be any clues for you to react to."

Harry started to answer, "Mr. Granger."

Again he was interrupted. Mr. Granger said, "I think we can dispense with the formalities. Call me Don, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes skyward and Hermione giggled. "Fine! Don, don't be so sure that I wouldn't react to the flash reflecting off of whatever I was looking at."

Don pressed his argument, "Still, a modern military rifle fires with a muzzle velocity so high, that even at two hundred yards you would only have a tenth of a second to recognize the threat and dodge out of the way. And even if you reacted to the reflection of the muzzle flash, you wouldn't know where the bullet was going to hit, so you wouldn't know which way to dodge!"

Harry thought for a moment, every eye on him. Haltingly, he began to answer, "You might be right. I certainly don't want to test it out anytime soon. On the other hand, I might actually be able to see bullets in flight. I'm not sure just how much time compresses for me." He smiled apologetically and continued, "You see, in trying to keep my powers a secret, we might have erred on the side of caution a bit too much and failed to test my abilities scientifically."

Hermione's eyes flashed with excitement, and she gave Harry a mocking leer. With a snicker, she said, "Harry, you just earned a promotion: experimental object!"

While everyone was still laughing at Harry's over the top look of horror, the doorbell rang. Carrie leapt to her feet and dashed to the front door, returning with Amy a moment later.

Ellen asked for Amy's drink preference, and bustled off to get her a Samuel Smith's Nutbrown Ale, while Don got her settled in and introduced everyone.

Once they had all settled in, everybody looked at Amy. Flustered, she looked from one expectant face to another, and finally said to Harry in exasperation, "Didn't set the expectations too high did you? Where should I begin, and what do they know?"

Harry looked at Hermione and flicked an eyebrow upward. She smirked and said, "Let's just start with the explanation of Harry's powers. The Bowmans have known about his powers for years, and my parents just found out. So, start where you did after he showed off for us at Oxford."

Amy thought for a moment, stood and drew her wand. "The first thing you all need to know that magic is real. Young wizards and witches tend to express their magic prior to training with bouts of what we call accidental magic. I think that somehow, Harry's magic gave him the powers of Spiderman."

"Magic?" Lorna asked dubiously.

"Yes, magic. There's a whole hidden world of magic and magical beings. It is difficult for me to prove it to you here, as the reason that it is hidden is by our laws. The Statute of Secrecy is the one law that all wizards and witches are committed to upholding. For, if the mundane world were to discover the truth about the Wizarding World, they are convinced that the results would be disastrous. If I were to perform any sort of overt magic here, in a mundane neighborhood, with no registered witches or wizards, it would be detected, investigated and if necessary obliviated."

"Obliviated?" they all muttered the unknown word in question.

"Yes, 'obliviated.' The Ministry of Magic uses a class of magics that can modify or erase memories, which, collectively are known as obliviation. When a mundane, or muggle, as they call them, sees proof of the existence of the magical world, the Obliviators are sent in to erase their memories. So, since I cannot perform overt magic, I came up with an idea of an innate use of magic with which to convince you. Harry please stand and face me."

Harry, looking confused and uncertain, stood and faced Amy. She knelt on one knee facing him. She looked up into his green eyes and said, "When I say, 'so mote it be', your reply is 'so mote it be'. Now, place your hand atop my head."

Harry placed his hand on the top of Amy's head. She bowed her head and held up her wand in her right hand. She intoned, in her most solemn voice, "I, Amy Lynne Butterfield, do swear on my life and magic, that I will be true and faithful to My Lord, Harold James Potter; to love all that he loves, and to shun all that he shuns. So mote it be."

As she spoke her oath, a glowing golden nimbus of energy began to surround the two of them. When she finished speaking the oath, she looked up into Harry's wondering green eyes, urging him silently to finish the oath.

Harry started briefly, and finished, "So mote it be."

The glowing nimbus coalesced into golden chains flowing up Harry's arm to his heart and down Amy's head to her heart. The golden chains flashed once and disappeared into their flesh.

Carrie looked at Hermione and snickered, "That wasn't 'overt' magic?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Just what did you just do?"

"I swore a magical oath of fealty. If I violate the oath, I will lose my life, my magic, or both." Amy saw Harry's face start to frown, and grasped his hand, still on her knee in front of him and pleaded, "Harry, please don't be angry. I know that the timing is a surprise, but this is exactly what I talked about. As your vassal, I have protection against many of worst things that the purebloods might have done to me.

"Ok, then, why wont this work for Hermione or Carrie?"

"They aren't adults. They aren't the head of house. They aren't halfblood or pureblood."

Dan broke in, "Protected? Protected from what?"

Paul nodded and added, "And what is all this nonsense about blood?"

With their wives nodding in agreement, all of them leaned forward, waiting for the answers. Amy spent an hour outlining the history of the Wizarding World, speaking of the Ministry of Magic, the Purebloods and their beliefs in blood status, the muggles and the muggleborn, and a brief history of the Wizarding War that had ended on Halloween night in 1981 at the Potter residence, in Godric's Hollow. Finally, she allowed questions.

Hermione said, "So, to summarize, Carrie and I are witches. Harry is a wizard and a lord. He's known as The-Boy-Who-Lived, who killed You-Know-Who. That is just the most ridiculous thing that I've ever heard!"

Ellen gave a wane smile and added, "Although their naming conventions are the worst I've ever run across, it isn't the key question. That is: 'Why should we stay in a place where bigotry and corruption run rampant, and the social norms are out of the era of wooden ships and iron men?'"

Paul intoned in his deep voice, "Yes. Bad enough that they're trying to establish a stratified class society, but to throw in the fact that women are treated as no more than whores, baby factories, or servants, just makes it clear that we should leave the country!"

Amy nodded, and said, "A decision that many have made before you! Thousands of muggleborns and their families fled during the war. Although I certainly couldn't blame you for it, the only drawback would be for Harry. As the most famous wizard in the world, there wouldn't be anyplace where he could be hidden. So, if you go, you leave Harry to face all of this by himself. If you tried to take him with you, they would most certainly find him, and you."

Ellen asked, "Just who is 'they'? Who are Harry's enemies?"

"Clearly, any Death Eaters, or followers of You-Know-Who. You can probably count on any other pureblood supremacist, the Ministry of Magic, who wouldn't want to lose the 'Savior of the Wizarding World', and other nebulous factions. Somehow, in the years leading up to the attack on the Potters at Godric's Hollow, almost every family supporting the Potters' progressive agenda, and the Potter's themselves, were driven to near extinction. Both of Harry's sets of grandparents were killed within the month prior to the death of his parents. The Longbottoms, nearly as noble and ancient as the Potters, and longtime allies of the Potters, are down to a single boy, Harry's age, and one Grandmother. The Prewitts are gone. The MacAllisters are likewise gone. The Bones have a single girl, again, Harry's age. The McGonagalls are down to a single elderly witch."

"Once is coincidence. Twice is enemy action. But, obviously, with five or more major allied families driven to extinction or nearly so? Not to mention over a dozen lesser, allied families, like my own. It has to be a plot. A particularly well hidden, and bloodily effective one, at that."

Carefully, and thoughtfully, Ellen mused, "Well, you did say that neither of the girls would come to the attention of the Wizarding World until their eleventh birthday, right? So, we don't have to rush to a decision, we have over nine months before Hermione will receive her Hogwart's letter. Even then, if she were to send her acceptance, she wouldn't be missed for another year. So, what do our two military experts say? Reconnoiter and gather information, before we make an informed decision?"

Paul and Dan shared a long glance. Paul nodded to his host, and Dan said, "Yes. We need to find out as much as possible. About the Wizarding World. We need to know the factions, the players, the tactics, the magics, and Harry's legacy. What would we do as a first step, Amy?"

Amy pursed her lips, then said with a rush, "We need to go to Diagon Alley. The first stop will be the Goblin bank: Gringotts. Harry will have to be disguised, though."

Carrie perplexed, asked, "Disguised? Why would he need a disguise? Nobody from the Wizarding World has even seen him since he was a baby!"

Amy frowned and said, "I'm not sure how. But there are a whole group of authors writing 'Boy-Who-Lived' children's books, and they all have a pretty good likeness of Harry on the cover. I even brought a few, let me dig them out."

With that said, Amy opened her small handbag, and improbably, reached inside the four inch deep bag up to her shoulder, and rummaged around. Finally, she started pulling out well-worn hardcover books, two at a time and set them in a pile on the coffee table. Almost as fast as Amy placed the books, Lorna grabbed them off the stack and started handing them to the others around the room.

Finally, everybody had a book, and still Amy pulled out books. When she ducked her head to look into the corners of her bag and couldn't find any more, she closed the bag and set it on the coffee table, too.

Hermione's eyes couldn't leave the bag. She said, almost worshipfully, "If you ever want to prove that magic exists, you don't need to do any spells. You just need to show off your handbag! That is amazing! How much does it hold?"

"This old thing? Oh, it probably holds as much as a steamer trunk," Amy smirked.

Harry looked at his likeness on the cover of "The-Boy-Who-Lived Meets the Dreaded Dangerous Dragon". He leafed through the first few pages, and held it up. "This book is supposed to be me at five years old, and it looks exactly like I did back then! Somebody has to have been keeping an eye on me!"

Angrily, Harry demanded of the room, "And who is profiting by this? I mean, I certainly didn't grant them the rights to use my name or my likeness! It's not fair."

Hermione and Carrie shared a look, then rose from their seats and went to the big, overstuffed recliner that Harry was sitting in. They each sat on one of the armrests and pulled Harry into a hug. Hermione pointedly ignored that her hug had pulled Harry's face right into her breast. When Harry hugged her back, she bit her lower lip and hid her blush by resting her head atop Harry's.

Ellen and Lorna shared a look and clasped hands. Lorna said, "No, it certainly isn't fair. It wasn't fair that Harry, despite supposedly saving the Wizarding World, was left with the abusive Dursleys. It isn't fair that a ten-year-old boy has too many enemies to name. And it's certainly not fair that someone is taking advantage of him, without his knowledge."

Ellen nodded firmly, then asked Amy, "So, how do we get to this Diagon Alley place? Can we go tomorrow?"

_**Edited By TeNderLoin**_


	7. Chapter 7

Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman

**Chapter 7**

Harry mused, for the hundredth time, if this was the best plan they could come up with. Hours of heated debate last night, after Amy's oath-takingoath taking and revelations, had finally been hammered into a plan. The plan had elements of risk. Harry could accept that, for himself, but he was mortified by the risks that the others would be taking on his behalf! Grumpily, he barely noticed as they pulled into the empty parking lot in front of the Oxford Education building.

He was unsure about this 'Floo travel.' He was worried that someone would recognize him despite their precautionary, if elementary, disguise. Too much was being left to chance, and too many people would be at risk. However; no one would allow themselves to be left behind on this, their first reconnaissance, into what seemed to be a hostile and fantastically alien world.

Lost in his rehashing the plan, Harry barely noticed when they parked and everybody else got out, until Hermione nudged him with her elbow.

She said quietly, "We're here."

Heaving a heavy sigh, Harry got out. Upon seeing everybody giving him a questioning look, he offered a slight smile. He spoke to the assembled Bowmans and Grangers.

"I'm still not comfortable with all of you coming along. This could end up being dangerous!"

"Buck up, lad. We went over all of this last night. There's strength in numbers. Besides, you are the one in the most immediate danger. We all agreed to do it this way, so just get over yourself," Mr. Bowman replied for them all.

"Fine! I get it, but I don't have to like it. Come on, everybody link hands and we'll go to the Greenhouse and meet up with Amy," Harry said resignedly.

"Wait a second, Harry," Hermione said.

When Harry stopped and gave Hermione a questioning look, she said, "I want to know if anybody else can see the Greenhouse. Only those who have magic can see it, right? So, let's find out now if anybody else in our group can see it. You know, like Lana and Lisa, perhaps?"

So, just outside the greenhouse, everyone let go of hands. Suddenly, everyone except Harry, Hermione, Carrie and Amy turned away, and started to wander off. Harry's group quickly caught up with the scattering people. Only once they made skin-to-skin contact with each one, did the ones act as if coming out of a fog. They were suddenly able to see the greenhouse once more, and no longer felt an urgent need to be somewhere else.

Amy snickered at the adults' chagrined expressions as she held the door. With a wry grin, she explained.

"That's the effect of the muggle repelling charm. Not only can you not see whatever is protected, but you suddenly remember an urgent need to be somewhere else."

Hermione's brow furrowed into a frown of deep concentration, she muttered, "There goes that theory."

Harry gave her a quizzical glance, and asked, "What theory is that?"

"Oh, I just hoped that at least Lisa or Lana would have been able to see through the Muggle Repelling Ward."

Once everybody was inside, Amy took charge. She pulled her wand and began transfiguring the parties clothing into heavy cloaks and robes. She walked over to a huge stone fireplace and said, "Ok, I know we discussed using the Floo, but now that we're here, I better explain how it works and what it feels like. This is Floo powder. All you have to do is throw it into the fireplace and say your destination. Like this."

With that said, she tossed a handful of the powder into the fireplace, and a gout of green flame shot upward. Everybody flinched back, expecting to feel heat from the flames.

Carrie shrieked in disbelief, "God! You expect us to walk into flames like that?"

Amy rolled her eyes, and said, "They're magical flames that open the way into the Floo system. They won't hurt you. They're not even hot. Now once you step inside, you'll be sent spinning through the Floo system to your destination. Remember to clearly say, Leaky Cauldron. Queue up you lot."

Don Granger gulped, regretting all at once the fact that he was first in the queue. His wife and daughter, then Harry and Amy, and finally, the Bowmans would follow Don. As he threw a handful of powder and green colored flames roared up in front of him, he thought. _This has got to be the craziest shit I've ever done, including jumping out of a perfectly good airplane_. He girded his loins and stepped forward into the flames. "Leaky Cauldron", he managed to croak out.

Suddenly, Don found himself whirling out of control, through what seemed to be an oversized chimney. Soot was everywhere; obscuring his vision, stinging his eyes, and making him cough. He noticed bright openings passing by at incredible speed. He tried to keep his eyes on the next one as he approached it, and determined it was another fireplace and he caught a brief glimpse of a room beyond. Without warning, he shot out of one of the openings. Caught completely off balance, he stumbled into a large, dimly lit room.

Knocking the soot off of himself, Don turned back to the fireplace just in time to catch his wife, as she came hurling into the room face first. He had just gotten her settled back on her feet, when Hermione came skidding out of the fireplace on her bum. Laughing, Don bent and helped her to her feet, amidst a cloud of soot. Between all of his laughter, and the cloud of soot, tears of laughter were rolling down his cheeks. Amy stepped carefully, and gracefully, out of the fireplace.

Grimacing, Don said, "You'll have to tell me how you pulled off that trick. We all ended up flung out of the fireplace, completely out of control."

With a smirk, she said, "It's traditional to let everyone have their first shot at the Floo without telling them the trick. All you have to do is step off as you exit."

No sooner had she finished, than Harry came spinning out of the fireplace in an incredible sideways cartwheel. But before he could land on his face and go skidding across the floor to knock them all over like tenpins, he shot one hand down, stopping both his spin and his forward momentum. Then he dropped to both feet with a grin.

Hermione gave Harry a glare, to which he just smirked.

Don said, "Nice reflexes."

Harry looked around the room. A few patrons sat at crude wooden tables, with rough wooden bench seating. The décor was late middle ages, with torches in wall sconces. Crude lanterns hung above a few of the tables.

Harry said, wryly, "What a dump!"

Once everybody was through, the girls surrounded Harry. They acted as part of his protective camouflage, as Amy led them past[J1] the bar, and through a doorway that led to an alcove. She pulled her wand and tapped several bricks in a five-pointed star pattern. As soon as she finished the pattern, the bricks began to roll away, and open up. Within seconds, there was a wide brick archway, that opened to a cobblestonedcobblestone street beyond. Amy turned and grinned at their wide mouthed awe.

She said brightly, "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

Amy passed[J2] through the archway, and they straggled after her. None of them could help but cast second or even a third glance at the archway, as they stepped through. When they were through, and finally tore their eyes from the archway, they saw a busy cobblestoned street, lined with shops on both sides. The clues that magic was pervasive were there, but other than the fact that everyone wore robes and cloaks, it was not too obvious. The Alley turned to the left only fifty feet from the archway, and the only shops they could see were an apothecary, a cauldron shop, a sporting goods store, and a luggage shop/travel agency. It wasn't until they looked into the displays in the front windows that the magic became obvious.

In the apothecary, there were liquid filled jars full of eyes, that all blinked in unison. The cauldron shop's display had a large cauldron sitting over an open flame. The flame had no obvious source. A stirring rod was in the cauldron, thatcauldron, which moved by itself.

The sporting goods store had a picture that moved! As they stopped to watch the entire sequence, a man walked into the frame. He took off his backpack and began pulling out items. First, was a package, which he tossed to the ground, and they watched in awe as a four-man tent erected itself. Then the man drew out another package, and tapped it with his wand. At that point, it grew, and became both a picnic table with a cooking stove at one end. Finally, the man stepped into the tent. The picture changed to an interior view, showing him coming through the tent's flap, into a much larger room than would have fit into the area of the tent. There was a central fireplace set in a sunken flagstone stone hearth, surrounded by couches and comfy looking chairs. To the right, there was a full kitchen. To the left was a long dining room table with chairs. Bookshelves lined one wall, and cabinets lined the other. Four doorways led off to what were later shown to be nicely furnished, good-sized bedrooms, plus a bath, all with large storage closets.

When the sequence restarted, Harry looked at Amy and said fervently, "I gotta get me one of those!"

Ignoring both Don and Paul grinning like fools and nodding in unison, Amy turned and said over her shoulder, "Come on! First stop is Gringotts Wizarding Bank. We need to get some galleons before we go shopping."

They walked to the bend in the alley, and could see even more of the Wizarding shopping area, before them. In the distance, they could see a massive white marble building rising above the rest.

Amy pointed at it and said, "There! That's Gringotts. Now, stay together and we'll be there in a minute."

At nine in the morning, on New Year's Day, the Alley still had a few customers moving about. No one seemed to take undo interest in them, though, as they walked to the bank. Everyone gawked at the odd displays in each store they passed. Eelyops Owl Emporium had the dozens of fierce looking owls on display. Mantra's Musical Muse had a quartet of instruments playing themselves a beautiful Carole in its window. Quality Quidditch Supplies had several brooms in the window, with moving posters showing each broom in action. Two teams of players zipped about playing a strange game with hoops, cannonballs, what looked like a football, plus a tiny golden ball with wings. They had to drag Hermione past[J3] Flourish and Blott's, when she saw the books. Hermione dug in her heels, until they told her it would be their first stop after the bank. The moving manikins in Madam Malkin's display entranced Carrie, especially when she realized that with every completed turn down the window, each dummy's wardrobe was swapped out completely.

When they all started up the wide steps to Gringotts, it finally drew their entire attention. The polished brass doors seemed entirely improbable. However the sight of plate armor clad guards (with nasty pikes, held at 'present arms'), eyeing everyone as a patron hurried out; made Lorna flinch, and Lana and Lisa reach out to hold their mother's hands.

Amy reached the doors first, opened up one door and held it for the rest, waving them in. Once Paul stepped through, Amy followed, only to find the entire group huddled closely by the door. Harry, Paul, and Don had all unconsciously taken up defensive positions between the women, and the short, sharp toothed, cruel looking goblins nonchalantly carrying out their business.

Amy rolled her eyes at them, and led them towards the tellers. As she stepped in front of one of the goblins, he looked up and took in the group with one look and a sneer. In a grating, gravelly voice, the goblin spoke in overdone, and patently false politeness.

"Yes? What business do you have with Gringotts, on this, the first day of the new year?"

Amy grabbed Harry by both shoulders, and pulled him in front of the goblin. When he just stared at the goblin's long nose, grayish green skin, and pointed teeth for a moment too long, she gave him a nudge.

Harry dropped his eyes, looked at the pile of gold coins the goblin had been counting, and said in a rush, "I'm here to see about my inheritance."

The goblin reached out with one hand held palm up.

He said, "Key please?"

Harry looked down at his shoes, blushing furiously.

He muttered, "I don't have any key."

The goblin frowned, but undeterred, simply said, "Hand."

Harry started, and looked up into the goblin's yellow eyes from under the brim of his baseball cap. Seeing the outstretched hand waiting, he hesitantly placed his hand in the goblin's. The goblin turned over his hand, so that it too was palm up, and with his other hand pushed a bowl, marked with strange symbols onto the desk.

Holding Harry's eyes with his own, he drew a small dagger and said, "I will need a few drops of your blood, youngling, to determine your lineage."

Before anyone could protest, the goblin swiftly drew the dagger across Harry's palm. Harry winced briefly. Waiting for a bit of blood to pool in his palm, the goblin turned their hands over and let the blood run into the bowl. The symbols on the bowl flashed red. The goblin waved his free hand over Harry's. The blood and cut disappeared as if it had never been there at all.

The goblin drew out a rolled parchment, partially unrolled it. He set the bowl on the right side of the parchment. Everyone watched in amazement, as the blood flowed up over the brim of the bowl, and onto the parchment into names leading of to the left. More and more names appeared, and the goblin shot a startled glance at Harry. The goblin watched avidly until the blood stopped flowing out of the bowl, several minutes later. The names being written had long since disappeared into the still rolled portion of the scroll.

Without taking his eyes off of Harry, the goblin grasped the scroll, and then in a low voice said, "Follow me."

Amy glanced surreptitiously at the other patrons. All seemed to be going about their business without taking any notice of the large group leaving the lobby for deeper portions of the bank. As the double doors to the lobby closed behind Mrs. Granger, the goblin turned back to them.

He asked irritably, "You aren't all planning to join Master Potter in the Inheritance Registrar's Office, are you?"

Harry waved at the rest of the group and said firmly, "These are my vassals and allies. Is there a place that the girls and their mothers might wait, away from the gawkers in the lobby, while the others come with me?"

The goblin muttered under his breath, turned, and led them down the corridor to a set of heavy wooden doors. He opened them and raised his eyebrows, until Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Bowman led their daughters inside. Harry stuck his head in, and seeing a plush conference room, gave the goblin a smile.

Harry bowed to the goblin and said, "Thank you… I'm sorry, but I don't know your name, teller…"

The goblin looked as if he had swallowed something sour, then he closed the door to the conference room.

He gave a curt bow said, "Griphook. My name is Griphook, Master Potter."

Harry gave the goblin a wry half-smile, and bowed briefly. He formally intoned, "Greetings, Griphook. My thanks to you for finding a comfortable place for my allies to wait. Lead on."

Griphook led Harry, Amy, Don and Paul deeper into the bank. The ornate highly polished marble gave way to rough-cut granite. Griphook grabbed a lantern off a table when they reached the end of the hallway whichhallway, which was already lit by sconces. The humans unconsciously crowded closer to each other in the darkness. Finally, the lantern's light revealed a door made of heavy oak beams, banded in iron, with much silver filigree. Griphook rapped smartly on the door.

Apparently hearing an acknowledgment that none of them had caught, Griphook pulled on the door. Slowly, it swung open. Harry stepped inside to see an ancient goblin sitting at a huge carved granite desk.

Griphook followed the last of the party into the room, and extinguished his lantern. Then, he stepped forward and bowed deeply, waiting for acknowledgement from the ancient goblin. Impatiently, the old goblin raised a shaky hand and waved for Griphook to give him the scroll.

He asked, "Well, Teller, just whom have you brought to us, today?"

"Registrar, I bring before you, Harry Potter; last scion of House Potter; Heir of Gryffindor, and Heir of Slytherin by right of conquest." Griphook said.

"Gryffindor? Slytherin?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor and Slytherin?" breathed a wide-eyed Amy.

Eyes glittering, the ancient goblin's white feathery eyebrows almost disappeared behind his head as he took the scroll from Griphook. With a wave of his hand, he both dismissed Griphook and conjured four chairs. He poured over the scroll for a moment, then looked up with a start to still see four humans standing in front of his desk. He harrumphed, "Yes, Mr. Potter. The Potter's have long been known by the goblins as the heirs of Gryffindor, but none have ever claimed their rights under law and tradition. You became the Heir of Slytherin by right of conquest upon the death of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, when, after murdering your parents, he died trying to kill you. Sit down. Sit down Master Potter. Now, tell me, who are your friends."

Harry waved his hand to Amy, and said, "This is Amy Butterfield, my vassal, and last member of the Butterfield family." He turned to Paul, and said, "This is Paul Bowman, my surrogate father, ally, and father of my three best friends." Finally, he looked at Don, and said, "This is Don Granger, ally, and father of my other best friend."

As each was introduced, they chose a chair and sat down. Eyes narrowing with each introduction, the old goblin waited until Harry had sat as well. Then, he clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on the parchment, to keep it unrolled and in place. He asked, "What can I do for you today, Master Potter?"

Harry looked pointedly at the scroll, and said, "I am here to claim my heritage. I understand that normally, I would only be able to access my trust vault, but as the last member of the Ancient and Noble House Potter, I invoke the 'Last of Line' clause, and claim 'Head of House' status."

With a slowly growing smile, the ancient Goblin said, "Most irregular. Where is your magical guardian, Master Potter? And what does he have to say about this?"

Harry was taken aback. He stuttered, "M-M-Magical Guardian? What Magical Guardian?"

"The one who was appointed by the Wizengamot to safeguard your interests in the Magical World. The one who was designated to watch over your well-being and introduce you to the Magical World and your rights and responsibilities. The one who should have been going over your monthly financial statements that Gringotts sends to all vault holders. The one who has had possession of your trust vault key, and who should have been using its contents to enrich your education prior to your attending Hogwarts."

Harry looked more and more confused as the goblin went on. At a loss, he looked at Amy.

In complete bewilderment, he asked, "Do you know what he's talking about, Amy?"

She frowned in concentration, and slowly began to answer, "Oh, I know in general terms. What I don't know is why none of these things have been done."

Eyes narrowing in surmise, she looked sharply at the goblin and asked, "Who IS Harry's Magical Guardian?"

Smirking, the ancient goblin answered, "Albert Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore; Order of Merlin, First Class, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

Harry shook his head in negation. He said, "That's too many names and titles. Regardless, I've never even seen or heard of the man! How can he claim to be my Magical Guardian? He hasn't done any of those things! In fact, for the first four years at my relatives' house, they beat me, starved me, and treated me like unwanted garbage! They never even told me my name! How could he have been looking out for my well-being?"

As Harry's rant went on, and he got louder and louder, the goblin's frown grew deeper.

He growled, "You say you've never met the man? I think its time for accountings then, don't you? Normally, your Magical Guardian should accompany you to claim your Head of House Status. But, as it was also his responsibility to prepare you for your role, and he seems to have abdicated said responsibility, I am inclined to grant your request. Is this young witch responsible for your being before me today?"

Harry clamped down on his temper, and unwilling to trust his voice, simply nodded.

The old goblin bowed his head to Amy.

"Mistress Butterfield, you have done young Master Potter a great service. For that, I grant you my name. I am Axgore, Registrar of Heraldry, and Keeper of Lineage." Axgore turned his baleful glare on Harry and went on, "You understand, as Head of House, you do not gain immediate emancipation. That would come with being endowed as Lord Potter. However, what we can do, is open the archives. We will then determine what happened in your case. A review of the legal records regarding your 'placement', the financial records of your Trust Account, and access to your Family Vault could prove… illuminating," Axgore finished with a feral grin, showing all of his pointy teeth.

Suddenly, Axgore, belying his apparent frailty and aged decrepitude, roared in a thunderous voice, "Griphook!"

Griphook came scrambling back into the room. Before he came to a stop, Axgore began bellowing orders, "I want the Potter Ledgers; the Book of Families Archives from 1979 to 1981; the Archived Wizengamot Proceedings, for the same time period; and make it quick, Teller! Oh, and take Master Potter to both his Trust and Family Vaults. Now, you all accompany Griphook. Go with Master Potter to his vaults. We will meet back in one of the conference rooms, near the lobby, upon your return."

Griphook snapped to almost attention, and turned abruptly. He grabbed his lantern, and led them back towards the lobby. Just before getting to the doors that led back out into the lobby, Griphook turned and opened a door. He looked back at Harry, and said, "Please wait here. I will make the arrangements for the information the Registrar required and for the meeting room. I will be but a moment."

While they waited, Harry was thinking. While he thought, he paced. While he paced, he got angry. Finally, Amy grabbed his arm and pulled him gently to a stop.

She gave him a smile and said, "Harry. Stop. There is no need to get worked up. We still don't have enough information."

Harry snorted. Then he blurted out, "Not enough information? My 'Magical Guardian' never bothered to show his face! Not once in my life! You come along and tell me more about my family, and my magical heritage in an hour, than I've learned in my whole life! In fact, everything I had been told up to that point,point was a lie! And I doubt it was coincidence that I've never seen a single statement about my accounts!"

Amy almost cried, "You just don't understand! Dumbledore is supposed to be the 'Leader of the Light', 'Champion of Muggleborns', and 'Friend to Muggles'. Beyond his other, official titles, he's 'The One Who Defeated Grindelwald'. He has a Phoenix as a familiar, and is the most powerful wizard alive. His political position and reputation are unassailable!"

Harry snarled, "That's all great! Yet, he placed his precious Boy-Who-Lived with abusive, non-magical relatives and never once checked on my welfare! And yet, there's dozens of Boy-Who-Lived books, supposedly about me and my life. They even have my picture on the cover, yet I knew nothing about them!"

By the time he finished he was shouting. Harry's hair began to move, as if blown about in a strong wind. Don and Paul gaped at Harry, glanced at each other, and decided simultaneously that they needed to calm him down. They stepped forward and each gripped one of Harry's shoulders firmly.

When Harry focused on his eyes, Paul said firmly, "Harry! You need to calm down, before your magic gets away from you."

Harry closed his eyes, fighting to control his temper. He took several deep, cleansing breaths before opening his eye just in time to see Griphook step back out into the hallway. Griphook gave Harry a look, turned and walked toward another set of double doors. Behind the doors, were trolley tracks. On the tracks, was an odd looking 'mine cart.'

Griphook waited until everyone had taken a seat. Then he vaulted in, and pressed a lever, all in one smooth motion. The cart rolled slowly to a drop off, then swiftly accelerated until they were rocketing along the tracks at breakneck speed. Harry gave an excited whoop and Amy met his grin. The glow of the lantern, mounted on a pole in the back of the cart didn't give off enough light to see the details of beyond twenty or thirty feet. So, each drop-off and turn caught them by surprise. After several harrowing minutes, Griphook grabbed the break handle and they ground to a stop in front of a platform hewn out of the native rock, leading to a metal door.

Don and Paul staggered from the cart, and tried to regain their balance and composure. Harry and Amy both leapt out, and stood near the door, waiting. Unsuccessfully, they tried to hide their impatience at Griphook to open the vault. Griphook stepped up to the vault door and began making passes over its surface.

Harry asked, "Which vault is this?"

As the door's many latches released, and the door started to open, Griphook replied, "This is your Trust's vault, Master Potter."

Harry looked inside, and was stunned to see a pile of gold coins, stacked in neat piles. Each pile was 100 coins high, and as he counted, there were twenty rows of twenty columns each. Harry went over and picked up one of the gold coins and hefted it. He gave Amy a sharp look and said, "Forty thousand gold coins, each weighing one ounce, means that in this, my trust vault, at today's exchange rate of two hundred Pounds Sterling per ounce of gold, there's approximately eight million Pounds Sterling!"

Griphook gave Harry a sharp-toothed grin. He said, "Very good Master Potter. This vault is refilled every year on your birthday to ten thousand galleons, or half of the interest earned on your family vault, whichever is greater. This is one year's allocation."

Harry listened to what Griphook said and frowned. He said, haltingly, as he thought aloud, "If this is one year's allocation, then where is the rest? Wouldn't each year an amount be added to what was already in this vault? I've never made any withdrawals, in fact, until just recently, I didn't even know this bank existed! Where is the rest of the gold that was deposited in prior years?"

Griphook ducked his head at the accusatory stares from the rest of the party. He answered, with obvious shame, "The withdrawals must all have been legally done. Apparently legitimate requests from your Magical Guardian. For a full accounting, we will have to wait for our meeting, when we audit the account."

Harry looked about the vault. It had bare, rough, stone, walls, but contained nothing except for the piles of gold coins. He looked back to Griphook and gave the goblin a resigned sigh.

"Fine. Let's head to the main family vault."

They retraced their steps, back out to the platform. While Don and Paul gave the mining cart dubious looks, Griphook closed and sealed the vault. They boarded the cart and spent another few minutes zooming through the dark. Soon, Griphook pulled on the break lever and they coasted to a stop in front of a much different platform, with a much different door. With a gesture from Griphook, eight torches on each side flared to life. Slabs of marble paved the floor and walls surrounding a huge set of twin bronze doors, each embossed with a heraldic shield. A huge foot thick, two-foot high bar of solid bronze went across both doors, and in the center was a shield with the same heraldic design.

Griphook motioned Harry to join him at the huge lock. Griphook drew a small ceremonial dagger slowly and held out his hand. Harry sighed, rolled his eyes and offered his hand.

He looked over his shoulder at Amy and said, "Goblins take the old saw about bankers 'bleeding you dry' to a whole new level."

Harry winced as a smirking Griphook made a slash across his palm then moved his hand to come into contact with the center of the heraldic shield. The blood flowed into the etching of the heraldic shield, and moved against all logic to cover every nook and cranny. As soon as every part of the family crest was covered in Harry's blood, it began to pulse with a deep, blood red light. The cut in Harry's palm closed and disappeared, and a series of clanks and metal on metal screeches came from the huge lock. Then, the bar pulled back smoothly from both sides and the brass double doors opened.

Harry gaped at the riches revealed. If he had thought about it, he would have realized that if his trust vault only received half of the annual proceeds from his family vault, then it would have to have at least twenty times the amount he had seen there. He started forward, and said over his shoulder, "Come on then! Let's see what we can find in here."

Griphook grabbed his wrist. As Harry pulled to a stop, he looked at the little goblin quizzically.

Griphook smirked, and said, "The protections on a family vault will not allow access to any not of your blood without your expressed approval. In fact, at the moment, none of us can even see inside, as a Confundus Ward only allows us to see an amorphous gray mist."

Shocked, Harry looked to the others, and seeing them all nod in agreement, asked Griphook, "What do I have to do to allow you all to go inside?"

"Simply take the hand of the person you wish to allow entry, and say, 'I, Head of the Ancient and Noble House Potter, grant entry to, and 'state their name'."

After granting Amy, Mr. Granger and Mr. Bowman access, Harry turned to a surprised Griphook and granted him access as well.

Ignoring Griphook's surprise, he turned back to the Vault's entry and said, "Come on then, I'll need some help to make any sense of all this."

Harry led the way, but they all stopped in stunned silence just inside the door. The huge pile of gold, nearly as tall as Harry, was piled in a haphazard fashion against one wall. Impressive as all that gleaming gold was, it was the shear number of suits of armor, weapons, jewelry, furniture, scrolls, books, chests, paintings and tapestries that bedazzled their senses. Finally, Harry broke out of his stupor.

Harry looked beseechingly at the group, and plead, "Ok, I need to find any papers my parents left. Their will, a list of properties, any personal correspondence or journals, anything that can shed some light on what happened to them."

Griphook walked over to a huge antique desk with dozens of cubbyholes. He climbed up on the chair and began pulling ledgers and paperwork out of the cubbies and sorting it into piles on the desktop. Leaving him to his task, the rest separated and began to inspect the accumulate treasures of centuries.

Unable to make sense of the various magical knickknacks, Mr. Bowman and Mr. Granger were limited to inspecting the furniture, books and jewelry. Looking at a diamond necklace, the two men looked at each other and shook their heads. This piece wouldn't have looked out of place beside the Crown Jewels! With five diamonds on each side, doubling in size as they approached the center, and the first stone being at least a carat, and with a perfect blue diamond of at least sixty carats, this piece alone had over one hundred twenty five carats of flawless, blue diamonds!

Unwilling to so much as touch such valuable treasures, Don and Paul simply took note and tried to swallow their awe at the nearly priceless relics. Harry wandered aimlessly, pulled in several directions at once. Harry finally picked a direction, when he spotted a scorched trunk in an alcove to the right of the entrance. At first, Harry's efforts to open the battered scorched trunk were useless. Then, while he was fiddling with the lock, he felt something prick his finger. As he jerked his hand away, sucking on the bleeding fingertip, the trunk briefly glowed blood red. The trunk then swung open by itself.

Inside, the trunk was larger than it appeared. Looking inside, Harry saw a bewildering array of knickknacks, personal possessions, clothing and household items. Harry dug for a picture frame. He saw a picture of four adults, three men and a woman holding a newborn. The three men were smiling and laughing, two were patting the other on the back, while all three beamed at the woman and the baby. The woman looked up, and Harry found himself staring into his own eyes. In shock, his eyes darted to the baby. The baby had an unruly mass of wispy black hair, matching one of the men. Tears ran unnoticed down his cheeks, as Harry watched the men in the picture take turns chucking the infant under the chin.

Amy had found another small alcove cut into the raw stone. It was set up like an office, with a huge desk, and a shelf with hundreds of cubbyholes. She reached out for one of the scrolls, when a tiny bolt of static electricity stung her, and she heard a sob. Rubbing her tingling finger with her other hand, she left the alcove looking for the source of the sob. She found Harry holding a picture frame, tears streaming down his face, head bowed.

Diving to her knees to envelope Harry in a hug, Amy pulled the sobbing lad to her bosom. Harry broke down completely and cried for several minutes, throwing his arms around Amy's neck. Finally, as his crying settled to the occasional broken sob, Harry weakly lifted the picture.

Voice breaking, he asked, "I-Is this my family?"

Amy had to wipe the tears from her own eyes before she could see the picture. She pointed to the tall wild haired handsome man with the shorter black hair.

"Yes, Harry. This is your father, James Potter." Then she pointed to the beautiful, happy, auburn haired woman, and said, "And this is your mother. Lily Potter nee Evans."

By now, the entire party was standing nearby. Don and Paul stepped forward and each put a hand on Harry's shoulders.

Paul asked, "What has you so worked up, Harry?"

"I-I've never seen a picture of my parents before. A-and they look so young and happy, but they were dead, a year later," Harry managed. He gulped convulsively, and then asked, "Who are these other two men?"

Amy took the picture from him, and looking at the men, she grimaced before answering. "One of them is Remus Lupin, and the other," she paused, and snarled out, "is Sirius Black."

With a puzzled frown, Harry asked, "Who are they? A-and if they were so close to my parents, why haven't they ever visited me?"

Amy's gave him a bleak look, and said, "Sirius Black betrayed your parents to Voldemort that night, then tracked down another friend, Peter Pettigrew, and slaughtered him and a dozen muggles. He's been in Azkaban Prison every since, and good riddance to the traitor. Remus Lupin? I don't know him personally, so I could only guess."

"What? How? I don't understand how all that could happen to the happy people in this picture in a year."

Amy hugged him to her bosom, and said, "It was war. Just be glad they found some happiness together in such a bleak time. I understand they got together while at Hogwarts. It's probably the only place that was operating as normal at that time. People were being killed in their homes and in Diagon Alley and didn't know who they could trust. By the time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated, the number of marriages and births were less than half what is normal. I wouldn't be surprised if your Hogwarts class isn't the smallest in a century."

Trying to distract the boy, and to get them back on task, Paul said, "Your family's treasures are amazing, but did anyone find any of the important papers we needed?"

Amy stroked Harry's hair soothingly. She murmured, "I'm not sure. I found an office area, but the papers and such were warded. Probably only Harry can retrieve them."

Rising shakily and wiping the remaining tears from his eyes, Harry asked, "Amy, can you bring this trunk? I think it was my parents' possessions taken after they were killed that night. Then can you show me this office?"

Amy answered, "Sure, Harry." She drew her wand, and cast a shrink/feather light charm on the trunk, then summoned it and put it in her pocket. She took Harry's hand and led them back over to the office alcove she'd found.

Harry went straight to the desk and simply grabbed all of the papers and scrolls into a pile before asking Amy to shrink them as well. As Harry and the others were discussing coming back to do a complete survey of the vault's contents, Griphook offered Gringotts' services, to inventory the vault's treasures.

As the group left the vault and climbed back into the cart for the ride back to the surface, Snarlfang… head of the Bloody-Hand Clan of the goblins… snarled in frustration. Some fool was asking about the Potter accounts! He could only gather half of his clan's warriors for a quick response, let alone get a response out of his allied clans. He felt doom creeping up on him and his clan, but first; first, someone would pay, in blood.

_**Edited By TeNderLoin**_

* * *

[J1]'passed' is a verb. In this sentence, 'past' is an adverb. :)))

[J2]Here, 'passed' is the verb, and is correct.

[J3]passed is a verb, and may only be used as a verb. That is the test: "Is this usage calling for a verb?" If it DOES, then 'passed' is correct. In all other cases, use 'past'. :)))


	8. Chapter 8

Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman

**Chapter 8**

Of Swords and Shields

Harry was still in the depths of pain. He'd never even seen what his parents looked like. To find a Wizarding photograph of them, smiling and happy, had torn at his heart. His head stayed bowed and he didn't even notice the long thrilling mining cart ride back to the surface from the depths of the vaults of Gringotts. When they coasted to a stop, Amy gently shook him to get him moving, and he trudged along behind the group, unseeing.

They arrived at the conference room where they'd left the rest of their families. Harry was the last to enter the room. One look at his crushed, stony expression had all four girls rushing to him. Carrie and Hermione arrived first, and pulled him into a hug. Harry's breath caught. He sobbed uncontrollably, and began crying openly.

Rounding on her father, Carrie demanded, "What happened to him?"

"He found some of his parents' things. When he saw their picture, he realized he'd never even known what they looked like. I guess it hit him pretty hard."

Hermione shot him a glare, "You guess?"

She turned back to Harry and lifted his chin to look into his eyes as she said, "It's ok to cry, Harry. You've lived your whole life without them. This is the first time you've actually had a good reason to miss them."

Harry broke into renewed and anguished sobs. All four girls cuddled close, and murmured their support and love.

Griphook presented the papers they'd found to the Axgore, the Registrar. He shuffled through the papers, separating a few key documents from the pile, while he waited for the young wizard to compose himself. After a few moments, as Harry's tears and sobs slowed, and Axgore addressed the young wizard.

"Mr. Potter? If you are ready, we may begin to make sense out of this mess."

Hiccoughing through a sob, Harry slowly moved to sit at the table. Each of the girls kept a hand on him. Hermione held the back of his neck, Carrie was snuggled into his left arm holding his hand, Lana and Lisa shared his right hand as he settled into the chair opposite Axgore.

Nodding to himself, Axgore pulled the first document off the top of the small pile he had set aside, and slid it across the table to Harry. "This is your parent's will, Harry. According to its terms, as the last surviving member of Ancient and Noble House Potter, you are to be named 'Lord Potter', immediately. Further, the provisions for your care and upbringing mentions a long list of Wizarding families, and specifically excludes your mother's sister, Petunia, and her family. Unfortunately, all of the witnesses (except for one) and all of the potential caregivers are incapacitated or incapable, for one reason or another. Sirius Black, the first named caregiver and your Godfather, is in Azkaban Prison. Frank and Alice Longbottom are in long term care in St. Mungo's, having been driven insane by a Deatheater attack a week after the attack on your family. Hector and Beatrice Bones were killed in an apparent accidental fire, a month later, and Remus Lupin is a known werewolf."

Harry frowned, trying to concentrate on what Axgore was saying. "Wait a minute. Did you just say that the Longbottoms and Bones were attacked or died after I had been placed with the Dursleys? Why wasn't I placed with the Longbottoms?"

Axgore smiled, showing his array of sharp teeth. "You get right to the crux of the matter, Lord Potter. If you will look at the bottom, you will see the list of signatures of the witnesses to this will, you will note one name that was not listed as a potential caregiver."

Harry looked at the signatures at the bottom of the will. He saw, in order, Sirius Black, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Hector and Beatrice Bones, Remus Lupin, and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

Gritting his teeth, Harry snarled, "So, Dumbledore knew about the will, and used his position as Chief Warlock to have the Wizengamot seal the will, and ignored it entirely! Then, he had himself named my guardian? At the time of my parents' death, I should have been made Lord Potter and gone to live with Sirius Black! When was he arrested?"

Axgore grabbed a document off of another stack, which he had prepared from Wizengamot proceedings, while Harry and the rest had been off to his vaults.

"This is the only record of any proceedings with regard to the incarceration of Sirius Black. It is the report of the arresting Aurors, dated three days after your parents' deaths, and two days after your placement with the Dursleys."

Aghast, Hermione broke in, "Where are the trial transcripts?"

"There was no trial. There is no record of Sirius Black ever being questioned. There is no record of the evidence presented, merely an order consigning him to Azkaban, signed by the then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE), one Bartemous Crouch, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and the Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore."

Mr. Bowman and Mr. Granger shared a meaningful look with each other. Then, Paul Bowman nodded, taking the role of spokesman.

"The single common thread between all of these events is one man, Dumbledore. What we need to find out, is just what he's done with his power as Harry's guardian, for all of these years; and what made him desperate enough to destroy several entire ancient, pureblood families, just to insure that his machinations were never discovered."

Axgore nodded. He pulled the rest of the stack of documents he had prepared, to the fore. He handed the top one to Harry.

"This is a record of the transactions of your Trust Vault, from the time of your parents death, and Dumbledore's assumption of your Guardianship. Each year, there has been a payment made to one Vernon Dursley of 500 Galleons. The balance was withdrawn each year, just prior to your birthday. In total, over two and one half million Galleons have been withdrawn in the past ten years. Now, even as your Guardian, Dumbledore could not access the Potter Family Vault, and so it, and its contents are untouched. However, Dumbledore appointed a new goblin as Potter Account Manager. This goblin, under Dumbledore's orders, has been in charge of the investments of the Potter accounts."

Handing over a thick sheaf of documents, the last of the pile he had prepared, Axgore pointed at them with his chin. He continued, "Over half of the Potter wealth was invested in the Wizarding and Muggle economies. Over the past ten years, Dumbledore has had the Potter Account Manager invest more and more wealth into something called Phoenix Enterprises. Now, all of the Potter investments are in this one Wizarding enterprise. The last page is a summary of Phoenix Enterprises assets. This Phoenix Enterprises is nothing but a shell, it has no assets, it has no income, and thus, it has no value. In this way, Dumbledore got around the limits to accessing the Potter accounts. Even the theft of the entire contents of your Trust Vault is insignificant to the amount that he has siphoned off from the investment accounts, with the help of the Potter Account Manager, Snarlfang."

Harry leapt to his feet and slammed his hands on the table so hard that the heavy, four inch thick oak table bounced. He raged, "So! All of this was about the money? My parents, Sirius, the Longbottoms and Bones, all dead, destroyed or insane for gold?"

Axgore sat back and steepled his fingers and said, "All? Only he knows the fullness of his plans and motivations. You would have to ask him whether or not the Potter wealth was the primary goal, or merely a target of opportunity. Still, whatever Dumbledore did to prevent Sirius Black or Alice Longbottom from immediately exercising their rights as your Godparents, he didn't trust to last. Thus, everyone on the list of guardians was taken out of the picture in a more permanent fashion, and in short order."

For a goblin, Snarlfang was a traditionalist, which meant, he preferred his Wizards glazed and roasted to a crackly crunch, and his Witches cooked over an open flame, served still alive. But now, he and his entire clan faced extinction. He knew he should never have trusted the assurances of any wizard. How could he have placed the very lives of his entire clan in the hands of a wizard? True, the plan had appealed, at first. How not, with the huge piles of gold that they had been able to take as their share, and all from the holdings of yet another in a long line of stupid wizards? But, success had all rested upon the assurances of one wizard that no one would ever even know to question their actions. It didn't matter how Harry Potter had learned of his holdings, all that mattered was the survival of his clan. Killing Potter and his entire party might cause another war between the goblins and the wizards. But in war, he and his clan would take their chances, if Ragnok found out about his illicit dealings with a wizard; they would all be fed to the dragons for dinner.

Harry was about to go on, when the door to the conference room slammed open. The open door revealed several goblins, armed and armored. As the leader marched stiff legged into the room, the other goblins followed him. He strode arrogantly up to Harry; hand on the hilt of his sword. Axgore rose to his feet in outrage.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion, Snarlfang?" Axgore demanded.

Snarlfang sneered at the old Registrar's question, but his eyes never left the small, human wizard he was facing. Barely taller than himself, lighter by half, and no doubt, as weak as were all humans, he wasn't watching Harry Potter because he was a threat. No, he watched, that he might see the moment his words crushed all hope of succor from the boy. The four goblins that he'd brought would be sufficient to handle Griphook and the other humans, the eight he'd left to guard the doorway would be sufficient to insure that what transpired here would be uninterrupted.

"I am the Potter's Account Manager! By what right do you meddle in their affairs?" Snarlfang growled. Looking into Harry's eyes, he continued, with a pointy-toothed sneer, "I had the assurances of your Magical Guardian, that you would not be attending to your accounts until your majority."

The registrar leaned forward and growled, "Gringotts always grants the owner of an account any information requested. A cursory examination of the actions of this young lord's Magical Guardian's actions showed clear irregularities."

Snarlfang had a maniacal look of glee as he said, "Nonetheless, these other humans have no legal standing or right to that information."

Harry's eyes narrowed in surmise, but before he could respond to the goblin's proclamation, Snarlfang cackled with glee and roared, "That makes all them thieves! Kill them all! We will eat well, tonight!"

With a flick of his left wrist, Snarlfang drew and threw a dagger at the Registrar's throat, as he drew his sword with his right. Knowing his guards would act to kill Griphook and subdue the humans as soon as he made his move; Snarlfang was confident that within seconds the Registrar and Griphook would be dead, the humans would be captives, and he'd be holding Harry Potter at sword point. The only question in Snarlfang's mind was how many pieces he'd have to cut off the captives, before the boy would give in.

Instead, as Snarlfang's hand moved, Harry's perception of time slowed drastically. He watched as Snarlfang deftly drew and threw the dagger, the goblin was much faster than any human he had seen, perhaps more than twice as fast. Harry was faster though, and he even had enough time to consider different alternative actions.

However, he was now facing battle-hardened veterans of this kind of fighting. He had never before done more than scuffle with his uncle and cousin. As fat and as slow as they both were, his prior experience led him to make assumptions that didn't match the reality he now faced. Further compounding his erroneous assumptions, was the recently discovered but as yet untested contention, that his webbing was actually a magical conjuration. If that were so, then presumably he'd be able to make it appear anywhere, instantly, rather than having it shoot out from his wrists, like Spiderman.

Harry's first mistake was to test the theory about his webbing for the first time in a combat situation. He imagined the webbing connecting his hand and the dagger as it flew toward the ancient goblin's throat. Unfortunately, inexperience and the slight delay between the time that he'd decided what to do, and the web actually appearing, caused the webbing to appear exactly as he'd imagined. It was just that the knife was no longer there! It had moved on its path a few more inches. Harry clamped down on his frustration and anger at himself, as even with his failure to stop the knife he still other people to save.

Harry's second mistake didn't seem a mistake, at first. He used the hand with the web to backhand Snarlfang away from him, before the goblin could finish drawing his sword. Snarlfang was taken right off his feet and started to fly, in a tumble, back towards the door. Harry turned his attention to the other goblins. One was starting a plunge with a vicious looking dagger into Griphook's kidney. Two were advancing on Amy, Mr. Granger and Mr. Bowman, and one was heading towards the girls.

Harry shot from the hip with his other hand, not trusting himself again to try the instant conjuration trick. His webbing shot out true, and caught the goblin's dagger arm just as the dagger was breaking skin. Harry gave a yank, throwing off the goblin's thrust and spinning him away from Griphook to face Harry, but leaving a nasty gash in Griphook's back. Griphook howled in pain, but gamely drew his own dagger with a snarl. Harry planned on using his right hand again to cast a wide webbing to protect the girls, but his second mistake came to roost first. As he was bringing his right hand to bear, he realized it still had the first web in hand, the one he'd shot out to try and catch the dagger. There was a sudden, violent and increasing tension in the web, and Harry didn't have time to react. He was spun off his feet, flying towards Snarlfang. Now, both were in midair, flying at each other, drawn together by the tightly stretched webbing between them.

Even with his reactions accelerated, Harry barely had time to twist out of the way of Snarlfang's outthrust sword, before they impacted. Harry was amazed at how tough the goblin was. He had taken a blow to the face that had sent him ass over teakettle, and had still managed to finish drawing his sword! And now, Snarlfang was doing his best to plant that sword right into Harry's guts!

Still, Harry was in a tight grapple with an experienced opponent both much faster and stronger than he had ever faced before, and now, there was a second one, that had been about to assassinate Griphook, flying towards both of them, still attached by the web Harry had spun. Snarlfang tried a backhand slash with his sword, but Harry was inside his cut. He simply grabbed the wrist, concentrated to anchor his feet, and threw the snarling goblin at the one inbound on the other web. They met with a satisfying crash as their armored forms impacted and dropped to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

This flurry of action hadn't taken more than a couple of seconds, but it had left the other two goblins attacking the Bowmans and the Grangers, unmolested. The sudden intrusion and outbreak of violence caught the women and girls completely by surprise, and they merely watched in fear, eyes wide and mouths agape. Don Granger and Paul Bowman had, since they were already keyed up for what they had described as a scouting mission in enemy territory, felt a flood of adrenaline. They hefted their surreptitious weapons: Don's walking staff, and Paul's nunchakus, disguised as a cane.

The whole point of most of the Oriental Martial arts weaponry, was that it could be passed off as farming implements, or innocuous items, such as canes or walking staves. Since only the nobility were allowed purpose built weapons, like the sword or spear, the Oriental peasants had come up with a plethora of weapons, like the nuchakas and a dozen different variants of the staff. Don and Paul had decided that the goblins would probably confiscate anything that they recognized as a weapon, so, they had decided to use the same subterfuge that had worked so well for those feudal Japanese and Chinese peasants.

So, as soon as the goblins headed toward them started to draw weapons, Don swept his staff down, meaning to bring it down on the junction of the goblin's neck and shoulder. The goblin's eyes widened in surprise, as he leapt backwards out of the way. With a snarl, he dove towards Don's legs. He meant to hamstring this upstart human, then gut him like a fish.

Don was surprised by the speed with which the goblin had managed to evade his first strike. Don backpedaled desperately, trying to maintain his distance. Quickly reversing his hands, he caught the charging goblin with an uppercut swing, right on the point of his chin. The goblin's forward momentum was stopped, and he flipped up and fell onto his back, stunned. A strike like that on a human opponent would have broken a jaw, shattered a handful of teeth, and knocked him unconscious, if not broken his neck. So, Don could be forgiven for assuming that his opponent was out of the fight, and turning to help a hard-pressed Paul with his goblin.

Paul had started his fight with an advantage. The goblin was unfamiliar with the weapon he was using. He had flicked his wrist and hit the goblin with a straight shot to the forehead, which should have dropped the vicious little goblin like a bad habit. A human would have been lucky to not have a crushed skull, but the goblin had merely shaken his head, and finished drawing his sword. So, Paul tried to use the nunchaku as they were meant to be used, he struck directly on the gnarled, bony hands holding the sword. Again, Paul was surprised. A human opponent's fingers would have snapped like twigs. The goblin simply responded with a snarl and slashed at Paul's knees. Paul managed, barely, to deflect the crippling blow, but the goblin pressed in with incredible speed.

Paul gave up on striking the goblin's armored arms and hands, and sent another straight on strike towards its only unarmored spot, the open face of its full helm. The end of the nunchaku's wooden baton smashed the goblin's nose, and gave Paul a second's respite, as the goblin blinked the pain away. Again, Paul marveled at just how tough the little goblin was! That blow would have killed a human, smashing in the skull above the sinuses and causing massive internal bleeding, if not a brain hemorrhage, or a broken neck.

Don drove in on Paul's opponent from the right, he swept the goblin's legs, then reversed for a two-handed overhead strike at the throat. However, just then, the goblin Don had first faced, struck from behind, driving his two-foot blade through Don's lower back, and out through his navel in a gout of blood. Several of the girls screamed, and Don's wife shrieked his name, as he fell to his knees and toppled, face first. Griphook hit the goblin in the side, and drove him off, before he could draw his gore-covered blade across Don's throat.

Paul got a glimpse of a wild melee between Harry and several goblins near the door, but grimly turned to face his original opponent. The seasoned warriors had a better measure of each other now. Paul knew that he was overmatched in this kind of fight against the goblin, the goblin was faster, stronger, and armored, but he couldn't let him pass. The goblin's sneer told Paul that he too knew what that the ultimate outcome of this fight would be: a battered and bruised goblin, but a pile of dead and bloody humans. Still, he was a Bowman, and all that stood between a murderous little goblin and his wife and daughters.

Harry had just managed to finish off his first set of opponents, when five more poured through the doorway. First, to prevent further reinforcements, he spun a web across the doorframe. This allowed the charging goblins time to get into range, so for several seconds, all he could do was dodge their swords. He started to grin as he leapt up and over two of his opponents, starting to enjoy the fight, when the girls' screams made him look to see Don, impaled on a goblin's sword. Suddenly, this brought everything into focus. This fight was deadly serious, and the goblins were just too tough and fast for him to hold back. Harry landed lightly behind two goblins, and before they could more than start to turn on him, he reached out and smashed their helmeted heads together, hard enough to dent both helms. Still holding onto both goblins, Harry spun and flung one of them across the room to smash headlong into Paul's opponent, and the other towards two more of the goblins closest to him.

Harry and Griphook finished their opponents simultaneously, Harry with a straight shot to the breastplate, which crumpled around his hand before rocketing the goblin across the room, and Griphook by driving his opponents own dagger into his foe's throat.

The sudden, shocking cessation of hostilities was still filled with sounds. The Registrar's rasping breathe as he held the hand he'd used to stop the dagger, now impaled with that selfsame dagger. The girls and the women cried in despair, as they knelt in the expanding pool of blood flowing from Don.

Hermione's tear-filled eyes sought Harry, and she wailed, "Daddy! Don't die!"

Carrie looked at him wide eyed, and implored, "Maybe you can save him?"

Harry reached his friend's father in a single bound, and fell to his knees to assess the wound. It was bad. It was worse than bad. Blood welled from a gaping five inch wound in Paul's lower back. Kidney wounds like this are almost always fatal, even with a trauma surgeon and an operating room. Add in the damage to his intestines and the odds of infection, sepsis, were almost guaranteed, and fatal. So, with a sinking heart, Harry realized that even if he could stop the bleeding, shock or infection would most likely kill Hermione's father.

There was only one wild chance. Harry knew he had healed himself, before, for each of the innumerable times that his relatives had injured him. He just had to make it work for someone else for the first time ever, within the next twenty or thirty seconds, before the man bled out.

Carrie and her sisters, Lana and Lisa, watched Harry through tear filled eyes, kneeling in a supportive huddle surrounding Hermione, as his expression shifted rapidly from elation at defeating the goblin threat, to dismay at her father's condition, to surmise at his course of action, to a fierce determination and resolve.

Harry suddenly placed both hands on either side of the wound in Don's torso and scrunched up his face in concentration. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then, a blue glow appeared between Harry's hands, as he bowed his head in greater concentration. The clutch of girls where joined by their mothers. The all looked at Harry in awe, as none but Carrie had ever seen this effect before. Seconds passed slowly. Nothing seemed to change, except that Harry's visage began to show strain, and his hands began to tremble from his efforts.

Hermione reached out and clasped his arm, and instantly, the glowing sphere surged outward, until it was ten-feet in diameter, and englobed the entire party, as they huddled around Paul's fallen form.

The difference was noticeable, immediately. The gouts of blood first slowed to a trickle, and then stopped. The edges of the raw, gaping wound knit together, like a slow motion, reverse time-lapse.

Amy was speaking urgently to Griphook, who had gathered all of the attacking goblin's weapons and thrown them into a heaping pile. A minute passed, and little Lisa, the youngest, slumped in her mother's arms. Then, in quick succession, Lana, her mum, Hermione's mum, all fell unconscious in a pile. Finally, showing as much strain as Harry, Hermione and Carrie passed out in the same moment, and fell over.

With a wordless cry of desperation, Harry's head snapped back. He looked towards the ceiling, and the glowing blue sphere of energy flashed brightly. He crumbled, bonelessly, atop Don's bloody form.

Amy and Paul rushed forward, and rolled him off the dying man; except that he wasn't dying, at least, not anymore. Although still lying in a pool of his own blood, and covered in it, Paul was breathing easily.

When they swiped at the blood to look at his wounds, they found only unbroken skin!

Edited By TeNderLoin 


	9. Chapter 9

**Harry Potter: the Spectacular Spiderman**

**Chapter 9**

The Traitor's Gate

Harry swam back towards consciousness. Just before he broke the surface, he heard the harsh, guttural sound of Goblins speaking in their language. With a wild cry, Harry sprang upward. However, since he had been lying flat on the floor and he'd pushed off with just his legs, he spun into an out of control back flip and headed towards the ceiling.

He desperately tried to assess the situation in the room. At first, he was dismayed to see dozens of Goblins. Then he was puzzled, as none of the Goblins seemed to be threatening or hurting his friends. Finally, as he reached the ceiling; Harry realized that for whatever reason, the Goblins were, currently at least, no threat.

Standing on the ceiling, Harry saw every eye on him. He shrugged in an exaggerated, sheepish way, and dropped to the floor.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

The Bowmans… Hermione, her mum, and Amy… were all clustered around Don. Although still unconscious, Don's face had good color, and he was breathing easily. As Harry landed, Hermione tried to tackle him with a hug.

"You saved him! Thank you for saving my daddy!" Hermione sobbed into the crook of his neck. Harry hugged her back gently, as Mrs. Granger swept them both up in a crushing hug, sobbing out her thanks as well. The tears and thanks had only just started to subside, when Paul Bowman gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze.

When Harry met his eyes, Paul said, "Hell of a fight. Hell of job! You saved us all. Don most of all, but how did you do that? I didn't think that Spiderman had healing powers."

Harry bowed his head in shame, and muttered haltingly, "I, I made too many mistakes. I could have gotten us all killed. I almost did get Mr. Granger killed. I had to do something. But, no, Spiderman never had healing powers. I'm just weird, even for a Spiderman."

Mrs. Granger spun Harry by the shoulders to face her. When he tried to avoid her gaze, she grabbed his chin and brought his head up to meet her eyes. With her other hand, she was poking him in the chest as a physical punctuation for each word.

"Stop it!" she demanded. "We knew this was potentially dangerous! Nobody expected an attack by nearly a dozen armed Goblins. Especially once we'd made it into a conference room inside the bank! If you're weird, it's in a wonderful way, and it saved my husband!"

The group of Goblins took this moment to approach. They were led by an ancient looking Goblin with only a few strands of white hair remaining to brush the shoulders of his finely tailored Armani suit. Two steps behind their leader, were four armed guards in heavy plate mail bearing gleaming halberds. They stopped, and came to Attention. Then, with a clash of their armor and weapons, they shifted into Parade Rest.

As Harry turned to face the Goblins, he subtly (he thought) pushed Hermione and her mum behind him, and Paul Bowman stepped up to his side. The ancient Goblin gave them a wry grin, showing all of his pointy teeth. Then to their great surprise, he swept into a deep bow.

In a raspy wheeze he said, "I am Shieldrender, Accounts Manager for the Ancient and Noble House of Black. I am pleased that you were able to dispatch the traitors, without taking any irreparable harm."

Paul snarled, "No thanks to you Goblins! What is the meaning of this? Do the Goblins mean to start a war?"

Shieldrender raised his hands to cut off Mr. Bowman, and replied, "We had no idea that Snarlfang would do such a thing. Nor did Gringotts sanction his attack! He and his clan are traitors! They will face the punishment of all such criminals!"

Harry gave Shieldrender a puzzled look and asked, "If you didn't know of his attack, then why are you here?"

Shieldrender acknowledged Harry with a subtle nod and half bow. "Firstly, I, as Accounts Manager for the Ancient and Noble House of Black, had heard of your presence, and had business matters to discuss. Secondly, as I approached this conference room, the sounds of battle echoed down the hallway, so I summoned the Guard. Thirdly, let me be the first to congratulate you on your prowess in battle. Very few wizards have ever fought Goblins at the odds you faced and even lived, let alone won a victory! Finally, as the senior representative of Gringotts on the scene, allow me to apologize for this traitor's actions here today."

Harry quirked an eyebrow towards Axgore, and asked, "What of the Registrar? And what business did you have with me?"

Shieldrender did a parade ground right face, bowed to the Registrar, and then turned back to Harry. "While the Registrar's position is both venerated and important, it is not in the direct line of command."

Paul muttered to himself, "So: staff, not line."

Shieldrender agreed, then continued, "Yes, that's it, exactly! My business here today was with Master Potter, as heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black."

Amy gasped, and when all eyes were on her, she wondered aloud, "How can that be? Lord Arcturus Black died over five years ago, but everyone knows Sirius was disowned. The Malfoy's heir, Draco isn't it, would be the closest remaining male relative."

Shieldrender gave Amy a nod of agreement, then said, correcting her, "Your knowledge of commonly held facts is accurate Miss. However, Arcturus never upheld Walburga's disowning of her son, and potentially the last male heir in the paternal line of an Ancient and Noble house. Now, with Sirius Black sentenced to life in Azkaban, his will has now been effected. Thusly bringing us to my business, today, with Master Potter."

Harry started to interject, but the Registrar beat him to the punch, "Shieldrender, we have here today discovered severe irregularities in the confinement of your client. There is no record of a trial, nor even of any evidence."

Shieldrender snarled, then growled out his reply, "And yet, there is a sentence! Life in Azkaban! A sentence, I might add, which precedent confirms as imbuing the receiver incapable of ascending to his rightful position. In either case, Sirius Black's will is now effected, and as Master Potter is both the primary beneficiary and heir to all titles and positions of Lord Black, so it must be!"

Harry cried out his denial, "But what if he is innocent? I would be stealing both his family fortune and his rightful title!"

Amy shuddered and said, "A life sentence in Azkaban usually is less than five years. Most prisoners are driven mad within a year or two, very few survive ten years. Sirius Black has been in Azkaban for over eight years, now. If he's not dying, he's probably been driven mad."

Shieldrender gave Harry a toothy grin, and added, "Besides which, an active Lord Black may be the only way for Sirius to get justice! If nothing changes, the Wizengamot will never even review Sirius' confinement; lack of trial, or not. Besides, all the money in the world will matter little to him, if his mind has been shattered."

Hermione and her mum both started muttering imprecations, like, "Barbaric! Cruel and Unusual Punishment! Corrupt! Justice?"

Amy asked, "Who holds the Black proxy in the Wizengamot? And if Harry assumes the mantle of Lord Black, wouldn't he also be required to assume his title as Lord Potter?"

Shieldrender grimaced, and replied, "The Malfoys hold the proxy to the Black seat. However, it is true that if Harry assumes the title of Lord Black, he also must assume the title of Lord Potter, with all the responsibilities therein incumbant."

Amy said, "All of the responsibilities? What if another Head of House challenges him to an Honor Duel, with the terms being, to the death?"

Shieldrender guffawed, "With the results here today? I would expect Mr. Potter to slay any that be so foolish as to challenge him! After all, he did kill three Goblins, whilst outnumbered, and with naught but his bare hands!"

Harry gaped, and stuttered, "I… I killed… three of them?" looking decidedly sick.

"Ha! What do you think happens when you're thrown across a room headfirst into another? Or when your breastplate is crushed by a blow powerful enough to send you flying across the room?" Shieldrender snickered.

Paul put his hand on Harry's shoulder. As Harry turned and looked up to meet his eyes, Paul spoke most solemnly.

"Harry, it was a fight to the death. You heard Snarlfang. He was looking forward to killing us all and eating us! Killing shouldn't be easy, but never feel you've done wrong by killing in battle to save yourself and your mates. You would have felt worse if someone had died and you hadn't done everything in your power in the fight. Feel bad if the battle could have been avoided, but today, you saved my wife, my daughters, and me from an ambush we couldn't have foreseen. I can never show a fraction of the gratitude I feel for that."

Don Granger sat up with a grunt, and added, "That goes double for me, too. Goblins are tough little buggers. They were shrugging off Paul's and my blows, and just wouldn't stay down. If you had held back, they would have killed one or more of the girls, after they finished off Paul and I. Thank God you did kill them, Harry! I just don't want to think about having to bury my little girl!"

As Hermione dashed to her father's side, flushed and shaken, she cried, "Daddy!"

Harry asked, "I'm not in any sort of trouble for killing them, am I?"

Now, the wheezing laugh of the Registrar drew everyone's eyes as he chuckled and answered.

"Not hardly. First of all, it was self-defense. Second, you did it without a wand. Most of the so-called 'Goblin Rebellions' started this way. Regardless what set it off; all of a sudden you had a dead wizard or witch. For some reason, your people always took offense to us returning just their head on a pike… and their bones, after they'd been picked clean. Your Ministry of Magic on the other hand, would probably applaud you for killing a Goblin, as long as it didn't end up starting a war."

Shieldrender laughed, and added, "It is not that we Goblins fear a war with the wizards. It is merely that we are ruled by our laws and our king. We would gladly slaughter every human on the planet, or die trying, if but King Ragnok gave the order. However, that would be very bad for the bank, as humans actually provide most of our business. Besides, every year we catch a few humans stealing from us. Killing and eating them keeps most of the Goblins' bloodlusts satisfied."

Paul mused, "I would think, with the punishment being that extreme, they would stop trying to steal from you."

Griphook snickered and said, "Well, most weren't actually trying to steal from us. It's just that most can't be bothered to read the penalty clauses in their contracts."

Hermione looked a bit ill, and muttered, "Literally, 'a pound of flesh!'"

Harry gulped, and a made a series of notes to himself, mumbling, "Number one: I will read and review ever word of every contract before I sign it. Number two: I will retain the services of a top-notch solicitor. Number three: I will never, **ever** borrow money from a Goblin. Number four: Goblins are not cuddly little people, they are a proud and dangerous alien race. Number five: Goblins may believe in the rule of law and honor, but their concept of honor is not ours; and, they are both very strict and literally cannibalistic."

Wide eyed, both Hermione and her mother nodded rapidly in fervent agreement. Harry did a double-take, as he hadn't even realized that he'd said it aloud.

A group of Goblins began carrying the limp forms of Snarlfang's party out of the conference room. The living were removed with one Goblin on each end, supporting shoulders and feet. The dead were summarily dragged out by their heels.

Shieldrender motioned to the conference table. He went around to the other side, joining the Registrar. After the party had settled, he motioned Griphook forward. Griphook asked them each if they wanted any refreshments or needed anything else. Eventually, everyone was settled in, and Shieldrender took over the meeting.

"Pursuant to Section 4, Paragraph 3 of the Goblin-Wizard Treaty of 1490, and recognizing the precedent of 'Bloodwin vs. Wizengamot' of 1737, the will of the nominal Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, one Sirius Orion Black, must now be read."

Using his ring, Shieldrender tapped a rolled up parchment on its seal. The seal glowed for a moment, and then the parchment unfurled. A spectral image of a young man, with a narrow aristocratic face and long curls of black hair arose and began to speak.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, being of sound mind and glorious body, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament; as of October 23, 1981, overriding any previous wills and/or provisos. I hereby leave all my worldly possessions, both real and titular, to my Godson, Harry James Potter, save for the following bequests:

"To James Charlus Potter, my brother in all but blood, I leave you 50,000 Galleons, in case your father is still holding back your access to the trust because you're no longer going stag and have married Lily."

"To Lily Marie Potter nee Evans, my sister in all but blood, I leave you 50,000 Galleons, so that you may equip your greenhouse to provide ingredients for your potions lab to the level necessary to continue your work."

"To Remus John Lupin, you old wolf, I leave you 100,000 Galleons, my wardrobe, and a word of advice: Some men are born monsters. Some men become monsters. However, no man may be _**made**_ to become a monster."

"To Peter Percival Pettigrew, if you haven't wormed out and betrayed us all, I leave you 100,000 Galleons. If, however, you betrayed the secret and James, Lily, or little Harry, I curse your name, banish you from the Marauders, and remove you from the wards to all Black properties. Oh, wait, I already did remove you from the wards except for that flat where you've been living, and it had no wards to begin with.

"In case things got so mucked up that the truth was lost, I was a decoy. Peter Pettigrew was the real secret keeper for the Potter's Fidelius Charm. If the Potter's secret was betrayed, it was by Peter, who is a rat animagus. Catch the rat and seek justice for his betrayal."

Shieldrender smirked, and spoke in an oddly cultured snarl, "Well! _**That**_ sets the kneazle amongst the puffskeins! With the reading of the current incumbent Lord Black's will granting you his titular rights; you, Master Potter, become Lord Black. Sadly, his declaration of Pettigrew's betrayal is insufficient to convene a court. However, were you (as being Lord Black) to enumerate his statement, the lack of evidence, and the lack of an as-required-by-law trial; you could rail against the injustice against a member of your Ancient and Noble house, and that just might be enough for a 'reconsideration.'"

Axgore added, "Further, pursuant to our previous discussion regarding maneuvering and plots by party or parties unknown; as your Godfather by law and by custom, Sirius Black would have been granted custody of you. Yet, before he had even been incarcerated, you had been removed into the custody of your mother's sister and her husband. Thus, Sirius' confinement served someone's purposes! It removed him, the one with the strongest legal stance, indefinitely! He was no longer among your list of potential guardians. With your endowment as Lord Black, though, you are emancipated. Thusly, you are no longer in need of a guardian. This may make it easier to convince the Wizengamot to re-examine his guilt. He would no longer be going straight from being a prisoner of Azkaban, to the guardian of the Boy-Who-Lived, as you would _**be**_ a lord already.

"Now that Shieldrender has made his mark on these proceedings, and you stand before me as an emancipated Lord," said Axgore, "we can have the formal reading of your parents' will. This is despite the machinations that would previously have had it sealed until your seventeenth birthday. In fact, the Wizengamot order sealing your parents' will until your majority, is now abortive, due to you automatically receiving your majority along with the title of Lord Black."

Axgore paused to frown.

"This was a fact that, apparently, Snarlfang was counting on. It would, however, have done him no good! If, upon reaching your majority the normal way at seventeen, you had come in to take charge of your family accounts. Thus, there must be more to this plot, something that would have prevented you from taking up your position as Lord Potter, Head of House."

Amy frowned, and said, "Didn't Snarlfang say something to the effect that, he had been guaranteed that Harry would not check on his family accounts, at least until after his majority?"

"Yes! Yes, that would have given them another seven and a half years. Griphook! I want you to calculate what would have been the effect on the Potter accounts, had Snarlfang been able to continue his Ponzi scheme. Also, assuming that anything 'invested' in Phoenix Industries is 'lost down a rabbit hole,' what are the total losses, to date?"

Harry broke in, "I don't understand. Exactly what is a 'Ponzi' scheme, and why it is so bad."

Shieldrender raised his head, and answered, "Allow me, Registrar. The Ponzi scheme is a shell game. Hiding the fact that the company or investment is actually generating no revenue. Unless you examine the internal accounting, they manipulate the cash flow from investments to pay off prior investors. Effectively, they have been taking the money from the Potter accounts, to pay dividends to the previous investors. To the investors, it seems to pay a tremendous return on investment, and when you accept the listed value of the securities, then the whole thing seems too good to be true."

Griphook finished his calculations and looked up at first the Registrar, and then Shieldrender for approval to interject. At their nods to continue, he said, "The Potter accounts had always maintained a fairly conservative investment strategy. No more than fifty percent of their assets were invested, and no more than ten percent in any single investment. Further, there were limits on their contract with Gringotts that prevented that from being changed by more than five percent per year. With the approval of your Magical Guardian, Snarlfang increased the amount that could be invested by the maximum per year. As of today, forty-five percent of all Potter account value is held in Phoenix Industries securities. Given another seven and a half years? That total would have reached ninety percent!"

Don broke in, "What are we talking about then? If the company has no value, what were the total losses to date?"

Griphook seemed to struggle for a moment, and then answered, "Nearly 15 million galleons. Luckily, the plans I see here to start borrowing against the face value of the Phoenix Industries securities had yet to be implemented. If they had, they could have encumbered the remainder of the Potter family accounts and assets, despite the 50% limitation on investments."

"Why hadn't they done so already," Harry asked.

Griphook tapped the folder. "Simple. It was much more risky. To take out a loan, they would have had to show the value of the 'asset' they were attempting to use to secure the loan. They would have had to give Phoenix Industries' financial records to another, completely separate department, controlled by a different Goblin clan. No Goblin could give those records more than a cursory glance without noticing the irregularities. There are notes about different strategies on how to approach them to try and buy them off. It is the nature of Ponzi schemes, that they collapse when brought under the scrutiny of external or regulatory review."

Amy shook her head in disbelief. She wondered aloud, "What was their endgame, their exit strategy. Registrar, what would Gringotts do if this all came out? It would cause a panic in the streets and a run on the bank! The trust that Gringotts needs from the public would be shattered! If one of the largest and oldest accounts could be destroyed like this, then how could anyone else trust that it wouldn't happen to them?"

Axgore pulled at his pointy chin, considering the question before answering.

"Gringotts would have had to take it as a threat to their very existence," he said. "Snarlfang's answer of 'kill everyone who knows', would have been considered as a 'last ditch' alternative, as that would have led to another Goblin/Wizard war. So, the only other option that I can see, would be recovery and restitution. If we backtracked the history of Phoenix Industries, and recovered as much as we could, and then covered the remaining losses ourselves… then the entire matter could have been kept between House Potter and Gringotts. But… there was another option open to them."

"Until it was discovered, and with the complacence of Lord Potter's Magical Guardian, were Lord Potter to remain ignorant of all information on the Potter Family Accounts until he reached his nominal majority at the age of seventeen, then all that would have been necessary, would be to arrange a fatal accident before then. And that, Miss, must have been their exit strategy all along. For if any of this came out, at any time, whatever Lord Ragnok decided would be Gringotts response; the results for Snarlfang and his entire clan, would have been quite final."

Paul looked to where Snarlfang and his warriors had been piled after the fight. He asked, "What will happen to them now?"

Shieldrender fielded this question. "They will be 'put to the question.' Under torture, they will be tried, and no doubt convicted, of treason, fraud, theft, assault, attempted murder, and conspiracy. The sentence for Snarlfang (and all who entered here with him) would normally be to be eviscerated, butchered alive, and cooked, still alive. The penalties for the rest of his clan could range from being sold as slaves, to the same as for Snarlfang."

The Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Bowman shared a sick look, as Carry turned to Hermione and said, "Barbaric!"

Hermione gulped and added, "Both cruel and unusual."

Amy shrugged and said pointedly, "Not for Goblins. Did you forget that Snarlfang wanted _**us**_ on the menu, tonight? I'll not waste any time feeling sorry that he and his clan are featured, rather than us."

A young, lightly armored goblin dashed into the room and threw Shieldrender a quick salute. A few harsh snarling statements from the new arrival had Shieldrender nearly frothing in rage, he roared a question, and hearing the response, snatched a chair, threw it across the room, over the conference table, into the wall, where is smashed to kindling.

Wide-eyed, the humans huddled closer together. Harry gulped and asked the question on all of their minds, "Uh, Shieldrender, sir? What is it?"

Shieldrender turned his ferocious gaze on Harry. He snapped out a few more choice words in his native tongue, and then answered, in a voice like molten steel, "Snarlfang's entire clan fled before the guards arrived. They left through the deeps beneath the bank. Through a long forgotten passage, now known only as the 'Traitor's Gate'. They left nothing behind."

_**Edited By TeNderLoin**_

Obligatory yet somewhat stilted, I wasn't happy with this chapter. In fact, I wrote it months ago and was so unhappy I thought about throwing it out entirely. Still, it DID serve a purpose. I needed to wrap up dealing with the Goblins, I needed to find a way around the sealing of the Potter will, and honestly, no house would have allowed itself to be without a head for any longer than absolutely necessary, certainly not until Sirius died in Azkaban.

So, one of my major flaws as a writer reared its head here: perfectionism. I can NOT edit my own stuff, I simply end up throwing it out. On the other hand, if I am dissatisfied with what I've written, and am not conscious of why, I just kind of seize up. Vapor-lock, if you will.

Post edit comment by TeNderLoin: This chapter actually turned out well... in my (the editor's) humble opinion (sorta humble, anyway). Which just goes to show that a decent editor CAN make a diffe

rence... and that an author can be _**much**_ better than he suspects!


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